£j^lL¥^0imQ0BlLM/^Gp 


and  Light  to  the  * 
Blind: 


^^ -toMtie^e  the 
*  Oppressed, 

-tolVatdidve/- 
t/ie  Sick; 


fliisis^o??ja,fs 
Sphere'' 

Her  lette?:  isd^ 


'he  recently  published  memoir  of 
i^mily  Sanlord  BiLling8,  written  by  her 
husband.  Judge  Edward  C.  Billings,  of 
the  United  States  District  Court  of  this 
State,  is  one  of  tlie  most  -touching  and 
beautiful  tributes  ever  paid  to  the  dead 
by  the  living,  and  will  be  read  with 
much  interest  in  N<Jw  Orleans,  where 
Mrs.  Billings  was  so  general  a  favorite. 

The  book  is  a,  twofold  revelation. 
To  those  who  knew,  but  not  intimately, 
the  subject  of  the  sketch,  it  is  a  revela- 
tion of  a  depth  and  fascination  of  char- 
acter under  a  quiet  demeanor  and  of 
talent  which  amounts  to  genius ;  and  a 
revelation  of  surpassing  tenderness  and 
devotion,  and  a^  poelic  power  of 
ideality  both  of  thought  and  of  feeling 
possessed  by  the  brilliant  jurist,  the 
author  of  the  sketch,  whicn  is  a  pleas- 
ant surprise  even  to  his  nearest  and 
most  appreciative  friends. 

With  a  loving-heartedness  that  seeks 
to  bind  together  the  memories  of  the 
two  women  who  werehia  best  beloved— 
his  mother  and  his  wife,  his  first  love 
and  his  last— the  author  dedicates  his 
book: 

"to  my  sweet  mother,  IIKPSEY  DICK- 
INSON BILLINGS, 

with  tne  hope  that  even  by  a  tie  so 
frail  and  perishable  as  words  of  mine 
may  be  linked  the  memory  of  her  who 
first  reve;ilefl  to  me  the  sacredness  in 
woman's  r.uaraeter  witii  tiiaii  oi  ner' 
who  in  all  the  relations  of  life  so  con- 
Bpicuously  and  endearingly  illustrated 
that  sanctity.  That  these  two  beings, 
who  had,  as  typical  mother  and  wife, 
successively  stood  by  my  side,  like  an- 
gels, inciting  to  all  that  was  good  and 
resisting  temptation  to  all  that  was 
bad,  and  who  first  met  as  seraphs  in 
heaven,  might  each  occupy  her  own  fit- 
tinc  relations  to  the  worth  herein  re- 
corded, the  one  having  prepared  me  by 
the  hints  and  suggestions  from  the 
depths  of  her  own  serene  and  loving 
nature  to  regard  as  possible,  and  appre- 
Biate  when  found,  the  more  broadly 
nufolded  and  more  brilliantly  beauti- 
fied excellencies  of  the  other.  So  that 
Bhe  who  did  but  foreshadow  and  prefig- 
ure maybe  associated  with  ber  who  at- 
tained to  and  who  embodied  in  her 
shining  life  such  unworldliness,  such 
affiaity  with  goodness,  snch  steadfast- 
ness for  the  right  and  such  purposes 
born  of  heaven." 

Did  ever  the  dedication  of  a  book  pay 
higher  tribute  to  woman  under  the 
sacred  names  of  mother  and  wife  than 
this  1  It  should  endear  the  chivalrous 
and  manly  author  to  the  heart  of  every 
mother  and  wife  in  the  laud,  and  win 
for  him  the  gratitude,  sympathy  and 
appreciation  of  eve;y  cultured  woman 
who  tarns  the  pages  of  the  book. 

It  is  not  only  a  eulogy  of  her  whom  it 
coicmemorates,  but  of  all  womankind— 
a  crown  of  glory  set  upon  her  daily 
life. 


k 


The  preface,  of  which  we  give  a  part, 
is  as  touching  and  beautiful  as  the 
dedication.    Listen: 

"This  sketch  waa  undertaken  for 
several  reasons.  .  ,,      .      •,,    ,       j 

"  Upon  the  death  of  the  fondly  loved 
there  abides  for  the  survivor  an  every- 
where diffused,  ever  present  sense  of 
loss  of  tue  oppression  of  pain  and  soli- 
tude a  void  coextensive  with  mental 
associations ;  almost  an  absence  of  what 
made  existence  personal. 

"  Slowly,  sometimes  not  till  life  on 
earth  becomes  nearly  all  a  retrospect- 
its  chastening  all  wrought  into  charac- 
ter—comes to  the  mourner  from  out  the 
•ashes'  of  the  grave  the  promised 
'  beauty  '-comes  that  ideal  presence  of 
our  cherished  dead  which  to  the  spirit- 
ual senses  brings  sometuing  of  the  look 
aiiT  "  lip,  the  high  and  brave  en- 
C(;  I,  the  restfulness,   the  as- 

bi,  aad  i.ie  ueckoniiig  apward 

oi  tiiCir  living  selves.  . 

"'The  prospect  and  horizon  gon^,' 
every  landscape  is, dreary,  every  shore 
barren.  Our  being,  which  yesterday 
was  full  of  vigor  and  crowned  with  ver- 
dure, is  to-day  withered  as  if  smitten 
by  the  killing  frost.  So  that  the  utter- 
ly  bereaved  seems  to  be  separated,  far 
away,  from  his  own  life.  The  connec- 
tion between  the  soul  and  interest  in 
external  objects  is  paralyzed. 

"  As  *  deep  has  thus  called  unto  deep,' 
•  his  waves  and  billows  going  over  me,' 
every  phase  and  incident  of  the  life 
herein  outlimed  has  won  me  to  its  con- 
templation, as  in  some  sense  to  a  com- 
munion with  that  vanished  life." 

Isnot  that  beautiful?  Ah,  something 
even  more  than  beautiful;  it  is  like  a 
strain  of  sweet  and  commandine  musie 
all  the  way  through. 

Farther  on,  in  the  heart  of  the  book, 
the  author,  speaking  of  his  marriage, 
says: 

"  We  were  married  in  New  Haven,  in 
Centre  Church,  where  for  the  period  of 
fifty-eight  years  her  parents  had  wor- 
ihiped,  the  calm  air  and  sacred  associ- 
ations of  which  she  had  enjoyed  through 
childhood  and  youth,  and  almost  on  the 
very  spot  where,  twenty  years  before,  I 
had  stood  in  delivering  my  philosoph- 
ical oration  at  commencement. 

"O  ye  joys  which  beam  upon  and 
beckon  to  us  from  out  the  glad  future 
which  lies  before  youth,  and  which  oft- 
times  fade  from  us,  obscured  by  the 
sorrows  and  narrowing  struggles  of 
later  years,  how  did  ye  then  come 
thronging  back  to  me  with  your  old- 
time,  glowing  aspect,  and  with  all  the 
rapture  and  twice  the  tenderness  of 
your  early  promise  I" 

And  in  another  place  he  says: 
"The  radiant  and  pure  spirit  of 
beauty  that  walks  hand  in  hand  with 
true  marriage,  comes  it  like  the  wind 
which  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  with- 
out visible  origin  ?  So  that  it  is  found, 
or  alas,  missed  without  cause?  O  no; 
it  emanates  from  what  are  among  the 
most  real,  as  well  as  the  best  of  human 
attributes.  It  has  its  origin  and  sus- 
tenance in  mutual,  implicit  trust, 
•heart  answering  to  heart  aa 
face  to  face  in  water ;'  in 
aims  and  aspirations  formed  and 
kept  so  receptive,  so  impressible,  that 
Bimilitudp,  almost  identity  results;  one 
string  responding  to  another  with  music 
when  io  is  not  smitten  because  the  key 
or  pitcU  is  the  same  and  because  there 
are  borne  to  it  by  the  pulses  of  the  air 
its  own  cognate  vibrations,  awakening 
its  note  and  compelling  its  i«spouse  by 
that  law  of  harmony  which  slumbers 
in  all  created  things.'' 
It  a]mobt  takes  one's   breath  away  to 


BUp 

It- 


■  to   face  -with,  sucli  words  as 

!  a  distinguised  jurist  who  is 

eal  only  Tfitk  hard  facts. 

hing  out   the  liand  for  a 

ed  brancli  aud  to  find  it 

iLlled  with,  the  beauty  and 

tfS.     Like  entering  with 

iing  into  the  presence  of 

ud  godlike  majesty— es- 

liilled  to  numbness,  and 

.....  ^:,ol  the  glowing  warmth  of 

the  tender  iii-e  of  the  poet'a  heart. 

Ah,  Judge  Billings,  Nature  intended 
you  for  a  poet  before  Law  confined  you 
in  a  suit  of  mail  and  drew  over  it  a 
jadge'3  wig  and  gown ! 

That  the  whole   book   is  a  labor  of 

love     is     manifest     in      every     Een- 

tence;    but    besides    tills    Judge  Bil- 

'  '  'ngs    to     his    work    a    clear 

a,    an     acuteness    of     anal- 


"Years  age,  1  had  stooa  on  The  sell 
same  spot  and  seen  its  flight  as  hurried, 
and  its  rapida  dash  aud  foam  as  wildly. 
Had  they  never  rested  since !  Would 
they  always  keen  pace  with  the  flight 
ol  time?  It  tired  me  to  think  of  it; 
so  1  tuiued  awav  in  search  of  the  high 
rocka  over  which  Geogiaphy  used  to 
say  670,000  tons  of  water  fall  every  mo- 
ment. The  mighty  rushing  sound  of 
many  waters  proclaimed  them  near; 
and  surrounding  space  echoed  and  re- 
echoed the  words,  'Almighty  Eternal, 
Immutable,'  from  tnat  voice  of  thunder, 
which  C4od  tuned  at  the  foundation  of 
the  world,  to  sing  His  Omnipotence  so 
long  as  time  should  last,  ihe  whole 
scene  was  as  if  I  had  left  it  only  yester- 
day; the  river  still  flowed  on  over  its 
emerald  bed  and  the  foaming  cataract 
was  sending  up  its  incense  of  spray, 
now  as  before.  ,     .  . 

"Fowler,    the    famous    phrenologist, 
once   told   me  that  I  had  no  bump  of 
:  Beverenee,  and  otners  vainly  have  tried 
to  excite  the  emotion  since. 

The  idols  to   which  Society  bows 


-idness  of  description  that ._ 

jct  clearly  before  ua  and  f^-  have  always  seemed,  like  myself,  of  the 


i^ V.  as  he  wishes  as  to  know 

the  wise,  loving,  sympathetic,  gentle 
aud  inflexibly  jnst  woman  who  had.  as 
he  beautifully  quotes,  "  the  sweetest 
Boul  that  ever  looked  with  human 
ej'es." 

It  is,  of   course,  impossible  to  here 

give  more  than  the  briefest  synopsis  of 

the  little  book.    The  story  of  Mrs.  Bil- 

-ng-a'  lifa  and  charactai:  and  her  final 

sufferings  and  lleroio   death  are  told 
yvith  an  almost  dramatic  directness. 

Mrs.  Billings   was  a  native  of  New 

<^ven,  the  City  of  Elms,  and  a  daugh- 

I P     of    one  of   the    early   merchant 

^^^ces  of  that  city  from  whom  she  in- 

^ovted  not  only   great  wealth  but    a 

reus  intellect,   a  sturdy  indepen- 

1  and  a  wide  beneyolecce.    She  re- 

^  the  best  education  this  country 

give,  which  was  widened  and 

4pd  by   long  foreign  travel  and 

vnd  by  association  with  the  best 

eft.  \  !'°*^  **  ^o™**  '^^^  abroad.    Her 

'^ems   to  have   early  turned  to- 

^erature,  and  the  published  ex- 

pe*^om  her   writings  show  her  to 

,  i^  6^    a   graceful   and   powerful 

Cq    She  excelled  in   epigramatio 

ig^  ess  of  expression,  and  her  let- 

^Q^  ^^^'^    in    such     aphorisms    as 

o  ^^e5"°  generous  to  see  the  faults  of 

/,.  i  too  noble  to  proclaim  them 

'"/eserve  f-  \  obation,  the  winning 
^  $2  25.     i  'ommand  respect  one 
I  '.natural  abilities,  to 
only  be  worthy  of 
^guily  employment, 
>ut  the  insignificant 
.VZl^*Ejiignity  from  their 
"^-respect    is  more 
-tfenown,  for  it  is 
Lit  is  easy  to  de-  ^ 
Qcult  to  deceive  I 

1  jo  nature  and  her  ( 
^Y,  JOSTi*  \^xy  show  her /-  ' 
1  *^'  ^S-  *  '"■^^^^°°^  of  ey;i'^ 

^^       -'    's  illostratter  { 
(  from  a  J 

aus.         v-^ 


'>i^? 


earth,  earthy,  and  I  have  scorned  to 
yield  homage  to  such ;  but  Niagara,  the 
unfathomable,  all-conquering  and  re- 
sistless, the  magnificently-terrible  aud 
overwhelmingly  grand,  seemed  a  fit 
shrine  at  which  to  bend,  and  involun- 
tarily I  knelt  before  it,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  strange  awe  that  would  have 
trembled  into  actual  fear,  had  I  not 
chanced  to  raise  my  eyes  and  see  God's 
bow  of  promise  lying  on  the  'Lunar 
Fall.'  Then  I  remembered,  that  though 
Niagara  was  great.  He  that  created  Ni- 
agara is  greater. 

"The  crushed  violets  beneath  me 
sent  forth  perfume  to  whi8|)er  that 
their  .tiny  lives  were  nourished  by 
the  ■  cataract's  spray;  and  little 
birds  sang  sweetly  over  their  tor- 
rent home,  knowing  tb'.t  'He  careth 
for  them.'  So  I  said  to  myself  '  are  you 
not  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows,' 
and  went  on  my  way  along  the  preci- 
pice's edge,  and,  like  the  flowers  and 
the  birds,  was  not  afraid." 

Her  description  of  Hyde  Park  is  an- 
other bit  of  fine  wotd-painting : 

HYDE  PABK.     ^ 

"Far  away  to  the  westwaftd  of  the 
vast  and  crowded,  .'uetropolis,  stretchej; 
tV.e  three  hundred  'and  fifty  a^c'-^f  ^ 
o  .en  jjroiiiiu.  k.Aw..i  ■  ,  ".y^*^  - '■\'"*^ 
beautifully  diV«rsified  with  grassy 
hillocks,  clover-grpwn  knolls,  and  tmy 
moss-lined  valleyfe.  Through  it  flow 
the  clear  waters  of,,  the  Serpentine,  re- 
flecting flowery  binka.  and  the  leafy 
branches  of  tall  rees  that  rock  the 
nests  of  summer  Ifirda  whrsc  rbnlling 
melodies  the  very  beggars  are  ijch 
enough  to  buy.  -\ 

"I  never  saw  anything  half  so  perfect*^ 
as  this  lovely  picture  of  the  country, 
spread  out  in  the  very  heart  of  a  great 
city,  to  refresh  with  equal  benefit  care- 
worn inhabitants  of  narrow,  thickly 
crowded  alleys,  and  the  sicklier  cheeks 
of  the  Jjiojc  crowded  drawing-room  oc- 
cupants. It  gives  a  charming  feature 
to  a  city  landscape,  especially  in  the 
eye  of  one,  who  comes  from  a  land 
where  the  feverish  eagerness  to  turn 
everything  into  gold  is  always  drown- 
ing the  voice  of  nature  in  the  noisy  din 
of  business— where  trees  are  only  beau- 
tiful for  the  cords  of  wood  they  will 
make,  and  pleasure  grounds  are  eye- 
sores because  they  'might  have  been  sold 
for  three  hundred  pence,'  and  turned  to 
mechanical  uses  I 

"You  should  see  Hyde  Park  of  a  Sun- 
day, to  get  an  idea  of  London's  popula- 
tion aud  London's  wealth.    You  would 
think  it  were  some  gala  day,  as  your 
(   eye  wandered  over  the  motly  throng  of 


triumphal  piocessiou— tJae  lon'''^ 
stylish  looking  equipages  th'  ■ 
Is  irom  one  end  to  the  other  .  / 
TEosCimmense  grounds.  There  are  ma- 
jestic cavaliers,  beside  splendid  car- 
riages tilled  with  beaatiful  women  in 
costly  r(5bes  — decorated  with  golden 
crests— and  drawn  by  superb  horses, 
'guidedi)X  coaohmeu  in  powdered  wigs 
and  gay  itvWies.  The  tootpaths,  too, 
are  thronged  with  peopl6  from  a 
humbler  walk  of  life— people  in  their 
holiday  dresses  and  their  holiday 
smiles!  The  eliect  is  so  imposing,  that 
if  you  were  to  see  only  the  kaleidoscope 
views  of  life  that  one  gets  in 
Hyde  Park  of  a  Sunday  afternoon,  you 
would  take  it  for  an  Elysium  of  beauty 
and  pleasure,  rather  than  the  thing  of 
toil  and  care  and  sorrow  that  it  is, 
But  the  everyday  side  of  the  picture 
would  quickly  break  the  spell.  All  the 
live-long  week,  misery  and  want  and 
wretchedness  are  toiling  in  the  self- 
same thoroughfares,  with  aching  limbs, 
and  breaking  hearts  aud  tearful  eyes; 
for  one- half  the  world  must  toil  and 
sweat,  and  groan,  that  the  other  half 
may  thrive  and  rejoice.  The  London 
streets  are  thronged  with  hoary  heads 
tottering  to  the  grave  and  craving 
I  charity  to  pay  their  way,  and  with  tiny 
I  feet  just  pattering  into  life,  that  are 
'  already  learning  to  keep  time  to  the  beg- 
gar's voice.  1  wonder  if  i  shall  ever 
got  hardened  to  the  piteous  tales  that 
[  startle  one's  ears  at  every  step,  and  the 
rugged  types  of  sufi'ering  that  make 
one's  eyes  wet  and  one's  heart  sick." 

But  it  was  when  her  sympathies  were 
aroused  aud  her  heart  ached  for  others* 
misfortunes  that  her  pen  most  truly  re- 
j  vealed  the  tenderness  of  her  heart. 

This  is  what  she  writes  after  a  visit 
I  to  an  orphan  asi'lum : 

"To  me  there  is  something  heart-rend- 
ing in  the  sight  of  a  motherless  child. 
Liice  some  loue  bark,  tossed  by  mighty 
billows,  I  tremble  for  it.  My  heart  yearns 
for     it,    and  my   hand   involuntarily 
stretches  out  to  protect  it.    I  want  to 
shelter  it  in  my  own  arms,  cradle  it  on 
i  my  own  breast,  comfort  it  all  my  life ; 
and  yet,  as    1   sat   there   among  those 
pool  little  orphans,  with  the  tears  roll- 
ing (I'own  my  cheek,  I  seemed  to  forget 
them  all   in   one,  or  rather  to  concen- 
trate  the   misery  of   all   in   that   one 
d  whom  I  longed  to  secure  from  sorrow 
i  and  misfortune.    I  drew  the  little  crea- 
'  tnre  to  my  side,  caught  her  in  my  arms, 
and  kissed  her  time  and  time  again." 

Her  eloquent  appeals  through  the' 
press  for  aid  to  go  in  seavch  of  the  ill- 
starred  Sir  John  Franklin  were  highly 
appreciated  by  Moses  Grinnell,  whose 
generosity  fitted  out  the  Arctic  expedi- 
'^' on,  and  bo  highly  did  he  esteem  the 
iUiant  author  that  he  gave  a  dinner 
_  her  honor  in  Xew  York.  The  enter- 
tainment was  given  on  Bond  street.  In 
tbe  citv  at  New  York,  in  tha  VOAV  X854^ 

A  distinguished  company  v'as  present 
to  meet  her,  among  them  l>r.  F"  ' - 
Kent  Kane,  who  published  "A  . 

tiveofthe  Expedition  in  search 

John  Franklin." 

She  received,  also,  from  Lady  Frank- 
lin herself  a  letter  in  which  she  ex- 
pressed her  deep  sense  of  grat'tnde. 

Mrs.  Billings' first  husban. I 
Jas.  F.  Armstrong,  a  distiugi 
cer  of  the U.  S.  N.,  and  after  nis  (leatu 
she  was  married  to  Judge  Billings,  of 
'  New  Orleans. 


Lifted  above  the  sordid^ar^s  of  life, 
with  perfect  congeniality  of  thought 
and  taste,  their  married  life  wab  ideally 
happy.    Of  it  Judge  Billings  f-'^^-'- 

"  She  reveled  in  the  blooni 
and  the  unchecked  verdure  > 
aud  plants  in  our  South  <■ 
clear,  mellow  skies,   in   i 

character  and  manner  wi..^_  .-,  ^, 

not  only  in  the  French-speaking  porbiou 
of  the  citizens  of  IS ew  Orleans,  but  to 
some  extent  among  all,  in  the  amuse- 
ments Avhich  are  well  nigh  perpetual, 
in  the  hospitalities  extended  to  famous 
people  from  abroad  and  in  her  elegant 
intercourse,  in  which  her  amiable, 
warm-hearted  nature  delighted,  with 
those  true  and  tried  New  Orleans 
friends,  whose  admiration  for  her  was 
shown  by  the  most  thoughtful,  unre- 
mitting Kindness. 

"Self-denying,  self-f orgetting,  in  sick- 
ness and  health  she  followed  me  with 
unslumbering  care,  aud  upward  tend- 
ing suggestions  !ik-p  tliat  of  the  minis- 
tering spirits  s  i. 

"Our  enjoyii  'le  mellowness 

of  the  midday  ui  i,  "  " -hated 

freshness  of  Its  mo'  d  not 

in  idyllicleisuro,  '  ■  t  oc- 

cupatioL 

complett 

luxury  ai 

poverty,  or  evea  1 

was  in  our  houses  <  y 

comfort,  for  it  was  au^-y^  «,uia  uc^^^u. 

these  accidents." 

Not  Beatrice,  nor  Laura,  nor  Charlotte 
has  been  more  tenderly  immortalized. 

Bat  across  the  brightness  of  this  day 
the  shadow  of  death  fell,  and  not  all  that 
affection  could  suggest  or  science  could 
do  could  stay  the  dread  moment  when 
the  idolized  wife  and  beloved  friend 
must  go  into  that  unknown  land  where 
her  sublime  f  ai  th  saw  nothing  to  fear — 
only  rest  from  suffering  and  the  eternal 
love  of  her  Father  and  her  God. 

Such  is  tne  story  of  the  life,  grand 
in  its  simplicity,  sincerity,  self-abnega- 
tion and  high,  unbending  purpose  of 
Emily  Sanford  Billings  as  Jtier  hus- 
band tells  it,  as  only  he  could  tell  it, 
who  knew  her  best  and  loved  her  most 
truly.  Told  with  the  truest  skill  and 
most  consummate  art,  in  that  it  makes 
the  reader  the  sharer  of  his  joy  and 
sorrow— "Who  had  one  wife  and  who 
clave  unto  her." 

The  volume  also  is  a  marvel  of  the 
printer's  art.  The  binding  is  rich  and 
elegant,  and  the  fine  engravings  done 
by  Kingsley,  the  famous  artist  of  the 
Century,  who  is  a  boyhood  friend  of 
Judge  Billings,  are  examples  of  the 
artist's  very  best  work.  There  is  a  soft- 
ness, a  breadth  and  a  .tenderness  of  feel- 
ing in  the  pictures  that  betray  a  master 
hand. 

The  book  is  issued  from  the  famous 
De  Vinne  press,  and  is  printed  on  soft, 
thick  paper,  and  the  tinconven- 
tional  designs  on  both  covers  show 
much  artistic  taste  aud  perception. 
On  the  rich  dark  cover  on  one  side, 
beneath  the  name,  Emily  Sanford  Bil- 
lings, lb  a  silver  scroll,  on  which  is  en- 
graved a  noble  sentiment  from  one  of 
her  letters,  while  on  the  other  is  a 
lovely  impression  of  a  palm  which  was 
taken  from  her  own  New  Havon  home 
as  a  model  for  the  design,  as  were  also 


I  Jhe  lily  aud  forget-me-uots  whicli  ador^ 

tlie  inscription  ou  the  page  opposite  the 

I  portrait  of  her  beautiful  face  ' 

JThA  port..*;-  of  ,>r„.  Bill,-  '  ,    , 
[fbrms  the  fitting  frontiapiece  of    .  ,.- 
,  wonden^u  lly  exquisite  voJuine.  is  Irom  a  j 
Photograph  by  H.  B.  Hall.  Jr.    So  true 
8o  beautiful,  so  satisfying  and  satisfied! 
What  a  boon  to  all  who  truly  loved  her   ' 
^  to  have  her  own  face  so  truthfully  re' 
produced,  with    her   soul     so   clearly 
shining  through  it. 
,     The  book  is  not  for  sale,  but  with 
lavish   generosity  Judge  Billings  has 
enriched  his  friends  with  the  gift  of  this 
memoir  of  a  beautiful  life.    One  feels  it 
a  pity  that  the  book   cannot  have  a 
wider  circulation  even  than  this     The 
author  has  in  the  compOed  and  original 
matter  given  a  gaidance  to  every  wo- 
man, and  though  he  may  feel  his  eor- 
row  too  sacred  for  strange  eyes  to  rest 
upon,  he  should  give  to  the  world  at 
large  at  least  an  epitome  of  the  beauti- 
ful  traits  he  has  sketched  so  graph- 
ically, that  young  girls  may  be  taught 
to  What  heights  womanhood  mav  at- 
tain, "'     "^ 


Remarks  by  Jade«  E.  C  Billiirxa 
•_* —    T>,m^.„     ••""Ivinff  on  hfthaWi 


"E^^^AILY  PICAYUNE- 


.aw^aI/OwuaiJx)   .^{ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
.   in  2007  with  funding  from 
IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/biographicalsketOObilliala 


EMILY  SANFORD  BILLINGS 


••:  > 


LP  ryT^iZx^   y^  73 


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DEDICATION 


TO   MY   SWEET   MOTHER, 

HEPSEY  DICKINSON  BILLINGS, 

I  dedicate  this  Sketch,  with  the  hope  that,  even  by  a  tie  so 
frail  and  perishable  as  words  of  mine,  may  be  linked  the 
^  memory  of  her,  who  first  revealed  to  me  the  sacredness  in 
*"  woman's  character,  with  that  of  her  who,  in  all  the  relations 
oc  of  life,  so  conspicuously  and  endearingly  illustrated  that  sanc- 
§  tity ;  that  these  two  beings  who  had,  as  typical  mother   and 

-*  wife,  successively  stood  by  ray  side,  like  angels,  inciting  to  all 

that  was  good   and  repelling  all  that  was  bad,  and  who  first 
«••  met  as  seraphs  in  Heaven,  might  each  occupy  her  own  fitting 

CM  relations  to  the  worth  herein  recorded,  the  one  having  pre- 
§  pared  me  by  the  hints  and  suggestions  from  the  depths  of 
her  own  serene  and  loving  nature,  to  regard  as  possible,  and 
appreciate,  when  found,  the  more  broadly  unfolded  and  more 
brilliantly  beautified  excellencies  of  the  other.  Thus  may 
there  be  a  remembered  association  between  her  who  fore- 
shadowed and  prefigured  and  her  who  also  attained  to  and 
embodied  in  a  shining  life,  such  unworldliness,  such  affinity 
with  goodness,  such  steadfastness  for  the  right,  and  s\TCh 
purposes  born  of  Heaven. 


4G1874 


PREFACE 

nis  sketch  was  undertaken  for  several  reasons. 

Upon  the  death  of  the  fondly  loved,  there  abides  for 
the  survivor  an  everywhere-diffused,  ever-present  sense  of 
loss,  of  the  oppression  of  pain  and  solitude,  a  void  co-ex- 
tensive with  mental  associations, — almost  an  absence  of 
what  made  existence  personal. 

Slowly,  sometimes  not  till  life  on  earth  becomes  nearly 
all  a  retro§pe5l, —  its  chastening  all  wrought  into  char- 
acter,—  comes  to  the  mourner  from  out  the  "ashes"  of 
the  grave  the  promised  "beauty" — comes  that  ideal 
presence  of  our  cherished  dead  which  to  the  Spiritual 
Senses  brings  something  of  the  look  and  fellowship,  the 
high  and  brave  encouragement,  the  restfulness,  the  assuage- 
ment, and  the  beckoning  upward  of  their  living  selves. 

"  The  pro§pe^  and  horizon  gone,"  every  landscape  is 
dreary,  every  shore  barren.  Our  being,  which  yesterday 
was  full  of  vigor  and  crowned  with  verdure,  is  to-day 
withered  as  if  smitten  by  the  killing  frost ;  so  that  the 
utterly  bereaved  seems  to   be  separated,  far  away,  from 


8  Preface. 

his  own  life.     The  connedlion  between  the  soul  and  interest 
in  external  ohje^s  is  paraly:(ed. 

''As  deep  has  thus  called  unto  deep,"  ''His  waves  and 
billows  going  over  me,"  every  phase  and  incident  of  the 
life  herein  outlined  has  won  me  to  its  contemplation,  as, 
in  some  sense,  to  a  communion  with  that  vanished  life. 
The  labor  of  the  sketch,  therefore,  has  afforded  some  little 
relief  amid  the  distra^ion  of  grief  and  the  desolation  of 
loneliness. 

Also  have  I  felt  that  the  events  of  a  life  which  had 
been  one  high,  unbending  resolve  to  be  and  to  do  what 
was  pure  and  good  and  noble,  wherein  had  been  com- 
bined an  intellect  of  such  comprehensiveness,  equipoise,  and 
brilliancy  with  a  disposition  so  sweet  and  joyous  and  lov- 
ing and  faithful,  wherein  had  been  refle^ed  such  love  of 
justness  and  such  generosity,  and  wherein  acquirements 
had  been  gained  with  such  sincerity  and  worn  so  unos- 
tentatiously,—  a  life  that  had  engaged  the  interest  and 
won  the  affedtion  of  so  many  gifted  people, —  should,  along 
with  her  letters,  so  rich  in  thought,  so  elevated  in  senti- 
ment, and  so  Splendid  in  diction,  with  suitable  group- 
ing, have  commemoration  and  permanence,  which  arrange- 
ment in  a  published  volume  could  alone  secure. 

I  knew,  too,  that  her  friends  would  find  solace,  and  all 
would  derive  encouragement,  in  reading  of  the  grace  and 
sweetness  with  which  she  continued  to  invest  life,  as  with 
a  garment,  under  greatest  trials,  to  the  very  last;  of  the 


Preface.  g 

heroism  with  which  she  encountered  dangers,  the  resigna- 
tion with  which  she  endured  pain,  and  the  faith  with 
which  she  triumphed  in  death. 

Since  a  noble  life  transcends  all  other  sources  of  human 
power  for  good,  it  has  been  my  wish  that,  through  faithful 
and  appreciative  narrative,  the  life  of  Emily  Sanford  may, 
with  all  its  high  consecration  and  pure  affiliations,  still 
flow  on,  a  perpetual  stream  of  beneficent  influences  — 
unceasingly  refle^ing  tribute  to  the  dead  and  incentive 
to  the  living. 

As  to  the  manner  in  which  this  purpose  has  been  executed, 
provided  only  it  shall  have  been  accomplished  and  the 
record  shall  fittingly  present  the  exquisite  beauty  and  rare 
virtues  of  the  life  committed  to  it,  I  have  a  single  ambi- 
tion,—  that  it  may  in  all  rejects  be  exa^ly  such  as  her 
taste  would  approve.  Not  exactly  will  the  aiperity  of 
criticism  be  softened,  but  rather  the  ^irit  of  criticism 
will  withdraw  itself,  where  what  has  been  written  has  been 
the  spontaneous,  well-nigh  involuntary  produ^  of  sorrow, 
born  of  a  fullness  of  love  between  the  suhjedl  and  writer, 
which  made  them  the  whole  world  to  each  other,  and 
makes  what  used  to  seem  his  worth  towards  her  now  to 
seem  to  need  forgiveness. 

EDIVARD   C.   BILLINGS. 
New  Orleans,  April  2)d,  1886. 


A   BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 


EMILY   SANFORD    BILLINGS 


I 


Early  Life  and  Home  Associations. 


EMILY  SANFORD  was  born  on  the  23d 
day  of  April,  1830.  She  was  the  youngest 
of  eight  children,  five  sons  and  three  daughters. 
One  of  her  brothers,  Henry,  who  gave,  perhaps, 
most  brilliant  promise  of  all  this  talented  family, 
died  when  about  to  graduate  in  the  Law  School 
at  Yale  College.  Another  brother,  Alfred,  being 
possessed  of  an  unconquerable  passion  for  the 


12  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

sea,  started  on  a  sailing  vessel  for  a  voyage  round 
the  world.  The  vessel  was  never  heard  from.  It 
was  a  fact,  I  have  heard  her  state,  that  her 
mother,  down  to  the  time  of  her  death,  though 
so  many  years  had  elapsed  since  her  son  had 
gone  forth,  would  start  with  a  strange  expect- 
ancy— like  that  feeling,  half  expectation,  half 
despair,  with  which  we  still  listen  for  the  foot- 
steps of  those  known  to  be  dead — whenever 
she  saw  approaching  her,  on  the  street,  any  one 
clad  in  the  garb  of  a  sailor,  hoping  without  any 
reason,  and  against  reason,  that  she  might  dis- 
cern in  him  traces  of  her  handsome,  unreturning 
boy.  How  long  and  how  fervently  hope  of  his 
reappearance  was  cherished  by  the  family  is 
beautifully  evidenced  by  the  will  of  her  father, 
Hervey  Sanford,  who  for  nearly  thirty  years,  and 
down  to  the  year  i860,  continued  in  his  will  and 
its  codicils  ample  provisions  for  this  long-absent 
son  whom  the  sea  never  brought  back. 

Though  I  never  personally  knew  her  parents, 
I  can  readily  describe  her  father.  The  clear  feat- 
ures of  his  character  are  before  my  mind  like  the 
well-defined  parts  of  an  old  line-engraving.     He 


Her  Father,  13 

was  born  of  a  family  which,  every  Sabbath,  from 
end  to  end  of  that  long  dining-room  in  Bethany, 
extended  a  bountifully  supplied  table,  received 
the  whole  body  of  worshipers,  from  far  and 
near,  congregated  for  worship  in  the  closely 
adjoining  church,  and  entertained  them  with 
the  simplicity  and  open-handed  hospitality  of 
the  old  English  barons.  He  had  the  great 
merits  of  self-made  men.  What  if  he  had  some 
of  their  faults?  He  was  possibly  severe  in  his 
views  of  family  government.  Perhaps  he  sym- 
pathized not  enough  with  pastime  and  recrea- 
tion. But  his  love  for  his  family  was  intense, 
sleepless,  ever  wise.  He  educated  them  in  the 
best  seminaries  in  the  land.  He  taught  them 
methods,  the  clearest  and  most  precise,  and 
purposes  which  led  to  honor  and  distinction. 
He  acquired  and  bequeathed  to  them  a  for- 
tune which  has  made  his  children  and  their  chil- 
dren affluent ;  and  along  with  this  he  handed 
down  to  them  a  name  that  was  a  synonym 
of  integrity,  and  an  example  which,  though  it 
lacked,  possibly,  sentimentality,  was  filled  with 
the  heroic  determination  to  subordinate  wishes 


14  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

to  judgment  and  the  indulgencies  of  to-day  to 
provision  for  to-morrow. 

I  have  difficulty  in  attempting  a  delineation 
of  her  mother.  There  has  been  such  unanimity 
of  so  many  voices  attesting  her  high  endow- 
ments as  woman  and  mother;  I  entered  so 
fully  into  the  depth  and  tenderness  of  the  feel- 
ing which  dwelt  in  her  who  told  me  most  of 
that  mother ;  there  was  such  a  softening  of 
the  voice  and  often  such  suffusion  of  the  eye 
accompanying  her  descriptions  and  allusions,  that 
I  have  come  to  contemplate  that  mother  as  a 
character  of  such  rounded  fullness  of  rarest 
qualities  that  I  fear  lest  I  may  fail  to  repro- 
duce with  completeness  its  exquisite  symmetry 
and  beauty. 

She  had  a  superior  intellect,  had  been  educated 
by  an  exalted  mother ;  she  was  a  good  observer, 
was  fond  of  books,  was  systematic  in  her  ways 
of  thought  and  life,  was  quick  to  perceive  and 
keen  to  enjoy  humor.  The  gentleness  even  of 
mothers  was  in  her  softened.  Her  endowments 
were  all  beautified  by  this,  that  the  great  law 
of  her  being   was  to   love.     Partly  by   inherit- 


Her  Mother.  15 

ance,  and  partly  by  her  own  researches,  while 
she  presided  with  such  dignity  over  her  own 
house,  she  collected  a  system  of  ideas  upon  house- 
wifery that  gave  it  the  elegance  and  attractive- 
ness of  one  of  the  fine  arts.  Retaining  in  advanced 
age  all  her  love  of  nature,  when  almost  three- 
score and  ten  years  old,  she  journeyed  with  as 
little  weariness  and  as  much  amusement  as  do 
the  young.  At  the  age  of  seventy,  sudden  emo- 
tion caused  the  ruddy  blush  to  mantle  her  cheek 
through  her  transparent  skin,  smooth  as  that  of 
childhood,  and  all  the  delights  of  life  brought 
to  her  unwearied  heart,  joy,  in  freshness  like  that 
of  youth.  She  and  this  youngest  daughter ! 
How  shall  I  find  words  to  give,  even  in  outline, 
the  large  affection  that  bound  them  together  ? 
The  mother  enveloped  the  daughter  in  a  love 
that  was  like  a  shining  atmosphere.  The 
daughter,  walking  in  its  glad  radiance,  ren- 
dered back  an  homage  of  heart  and  life  that 
was  akin  to  a  consecration. 

There  was  another  member  of  this  family, 
the  maternal  grandmother,  Mrs.  Lyman,  known 
in   those   days    of  plain,    expressive    names    as 


1 6  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

Polly  Lyman,  who  was  a  person  of  such  facul- 
ties and  tastes  that  she  naturally  exercised  a 
controlling  influence,  even  in  a  family  so  intel- 
lectual and  refined  as  those  who  knew  the 
family  of  Hervey  Sanford  intimately  felt  it  to 
be.  Her  love  of  flowers,  like  her  enthusiasm 
in  cultivating  all  that  was  high  in  aim  and 
pure  in  thought,  was  as  vigorous  in  age  as  in 
youth.  Her  wisdom  embodied  in  many  trite 
sayings,  her  learning  in  the  direction  of  Biog- 
raphy and  History,  her  character  (meaning  by 
that  her  decided  qualities  of  heart  and  brain),  are 
handed  down  with  admiration,  not  alone  in  Mr. 
Sanford's  family,  but  also  among  the  children's 
children  of  the  circle  in  which  she  exerted  so 
great  an  influence. 

I  add  a  pen-and-ink  picture  of  Mrs.  Lyman 
from  an  article  published  in  1870  in  The  New 
Haven  Palladium,  entitled  "  Temple  Street, 
Forty  Years  Ago."     The  writer  says : 

"Mrs.  Sanford's  mother,  Mrs.  Lyman,  lived 
with  them,  and  her  specialty  was  a  fondness 
for  flowers,  which  she  cultivated  herself  in  their 
large   garden   with   great   success.      I    can    see 


Her  Maternal  Grandmother.  17 

her  now,  scissors  in  hand  to  cut  flowers  for  a 
friend,  stopping  here  and  there  to  pull  an 
interloping  weed,  or  break  ofl"  a  dead  leaf,  her 
face  lighting  up  to  give  pleasure,  by  a  gift 
much  rarer  then  than  now.  Her  fondness  for 
flowers  and  books  was  greatly  in  advance  of 
her  time. 

"  She  was  a  great  reader,  and  spent  more 
money  for  books  than,  I'll  venture  to  say,  did 
many  of  her  more  carefully  educated  and  younger 
neighbors.  Books  for  mere  reading  were  scarce 
and  a  luxury,  and  buying  many  was  considered 
an  extravagance." 

In  this  family,  at  what  then  was  known  as 
144  Temple  street,  where  is  most  full  the  ver- 
dure and  most  striking  the  Gothic  arch  of  the 
elms  planted  by  Mr.  Hillhouse,  which  have  given 
to  New  Haven  such  an  unchallenged  name  for 
shade  and  beauty,  were  passed  the  childhood  and 
early  youth  of  Emily  Sanford.  Here  she  learned 
to  walk  without  first  creeping.  Here  her  infant 
lips  uttered  that  first  sentence,  which  she  often 
gleefully  recited,  and  which  showed  her  char- 
acteristic   independence,    made   up   of  so   much 


1 8  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

sweetness,  so  much  inflexibility,  because  of  the 
wholeness,  the  unreservedness  of  her  convictions. 
Here  she  commenced  life  with  that  fervent  love 
for  her  mother  which  ever  continued  to  be  stim- 
ulus and  restraint  from  girlhood,  when,  no  matter 
how  absorbing  the  visit  or  the  sport,  the  sound 
of  the  clock,  reminding  her  of  her  mother's  in- 
junction, always  hurried  her  home,  down  to  that 
long  vigil,  by  day  and  by  night,  beside  that  dying 
mother's  bed,  when  the  passing  away  of  the  mother 
was  followed  by  a  swoon,  like  that  of  death,  of 
the  exhausted  daughter. 

Here  she  loved  all  her  brothers  and  sisters 
with  warm  devotion.  Here  she  loved  her 
brother  '*  Charlie,"  who  was  afterwards  emi- 
nent at  the  New  York  bar,  and  one  of  the 
judges  of  the  Superior  Court  of  the  City  of 
New  York.  These  two,  the  youngest  of  the 
family,  drawn  together  in  youth  by  a  similarity 
of  tastes  and  a  unity  of  ideal  in  life,  as  man 
and  woman  taking  their  separate  parts  in  the 
world,  never  lost  the  pure  affection  which  had 
so  beautifully  characterized  them  as  boy  and 
girl.     As   a  little   boy,  he   suspended   his  ball- 


Her  Brother  *'  Charlie.''  19 

playing  the  moment  his  little  sister  expressed 
a  wish  to  go  home,  gallantly  escorted  her  to 
and  from  school,  and  lovingly  helped  her  over 
the  little  pools  of  water  left  by  the  passing 
showers.  As  a  man,  pressed  by  the  cares  and 
labors  of  his  exhaustive  professional  life,  with 
the  same  alacrity  he  interrupted  his  business 
to  welcome  her  or  to  accompany  her  wherever 
her  interests  or  wishes  called  her  to  go.  Their 
strikingly  similar  features  were  scarcely  more 
alike  than  were  their  characters.  How  was 
her  great  love  for  him  shown  by  the  pride 
and  pleasure  with  which  she  lingered  upon  even 
his  name  as  she  pronounced  it !  With  what  care 
did  she  cherish  before  his  death,  and  with  what 
reverence  did  she  treasure  afterwards,  his  boy- 
ish birthday  gift,  his  miniature  painted  on  ivory, 
set  in  a  locket  and  resting  on  a  tiny  easel ! 
Well  might  she  have  clung  to  it  with  such 
fond  admiration !  There  was  *'  such  wondrous 
purpose  in  his  eyes  "  as  they  looked  forth  from 
beneath  that  broad  brow  in  that  seraphic  pict- 
ure !  This  portrait,  made  when  he  was  fourteen 
years  old,  surpasses,  in  beauty  of  lineament   as 

3 


20  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

it  does  in  the  evidence  of  lofty  character,  in 
spiritual  expression,  those  pictures  of  the  youth- 
ful Lord  Byron  which  are  regarded  as  types  of 
beauty. 

Generous,  unforgetting  brother,  refined,  un- 
worldly man,  who  shrank  from  low  and  vulgar 
thoughts  as  from  crimes ;  who  climbed  to  a  sum- 
mit as  an  advocate  and  counselor,  and  who,  though 
life  was  ended  amidst  prolonged  sickness  and  at 
midday,  crowned  that  life  with  a  judicial  fame  even 
then  resplendent !  What  wonder  that  such  a  sister 
grieved  at  the  death  of  such  a  brother  as  though  a 
part  of  her  own  life  had  expired. 

Says  a  gifted  woman  who,  like  her,  was  born 
beneath  the  Temple  street  elms,  and  was  the  inti- 
mate friend  of  her  mother  and  who  knew  the 
interior  of  the  family  well :  "  She  was  the  pet 
of  the  household,  but  her  sweet  nature  carried 
her  through  childhood  and  youth  without  in- 
ducing the  selfishness  or  willfulness  usually  the 
result  of  such  indulgence. 

"  She  was  an  uncommon  child,  wide  awake 
and  playful,  but  with  a  directness  and  earnest- 
ness  rarely   seen  so  early   in   life. 


Her  Earnest  Childhood.  21 

"When  a  little  girl,  her  mother  sent  her  to  her 
father's  store  for  something  for  which  she  was  in 
a  hurry.  The  clerk  proposed  to  send  it.  No,  she 
would  carry  it.  *  But,'  said  he,  *  for  a  little  lady  to 
take  such  a  package  is  not  respectable.'  *  Give  it 
to  me,'  she  exclaimed,  'and  I  will  make  it  respect- 
able,' and  carried  it  off. 

"  Whatever  she  thought  right  and  proper  she 
would  do,  and  no  mere  conventionality  or  adverse 
judgment  could  induce  her  to  step  out  of  the 
path  which,  according  to  her  conviction,  right 
and  duty  marked  out  for  her." 


II 

At  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary. 

WHEN  sixteen  years   of  age  she  went   to 
Mount  Holyoke  Seminary  at  South  Had- 
ley,  Massachusetts. 

During  our  married  life  I  accompanied  her 
upon  the  occasion  of  her  revisiting  that  institu- 
tion.    Her  account  there  and  on  the  way,  giv- 


22  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

ing  her  hopes  and  efforts  within  those  walls, 
which  during  her  student  life  had  been  unadorned, 
but  then  inclosed  much  luxury,  was  full  of  brill- 
iant anecdote  and  melting  reminiscence,  and  dis- 
closed the  record  of  one  who  saw  so  exclusively 
the  good,  the  beautiful,  and  the  true,  that  it  was 
like  the  lifting  of  the  veil  from  the  noblest  of  lives 
by  a  disembodied  soul. 

As  showing  the  earnestness  and  elevation  of 
her  purposes  during  her  school  days,  I  insert 
extracts  from  a  letter  written  by  her  in  1853 
to  her  cousin,  Ellen  Hetzel,  then  a  student  at 
the  seminary,  for  which  I  am  indebted  to  the 
great  kindness  of  Mrs.  Frances  L.  (Kent)  Knowl- 
ton,  who  was  permitted  to  take  a  copy,  who  pre- 
served it  all  these  years,  and  who  writes  that 
"it  had  exercised  a  great  formative  influence 
upon  her  character,  and,  in  her  opinion,  should 
be  read  to  every  class  of  young  ladies  at  the 
seminary" : 

"  Thank  you  for  the  introduction  you  have  given 
me  to  your  new  friends.  .  .  .  Tell  me  what  makes 
them  your  friends  ;  it  is  a  sweet  study  —  that  of 


^*  Self- Respect  Better  than  Renown.'^        23 

learning  what  makes  other  hearts  congenial  to 
our  own.  You  fear  you  have  disappointed  Miss  G. 
Do  not  stop  to  repent  it,  do  not  even  stay  to 
decide  if  the  fact  be  really  such,  but  be  now  what 
she  did  expect  of  you.  It  is  never  too  late.  Begin 
now  to  be  too  generous  to  see  the  faults  of  others, 
too  noble  to  proclaim  them.  At  school  one  only 
has  to  deserve  approbation,  and  the  winning  it 
is  sure. 

**  To  command  respect,  one  has  but  to  mas- 
ter every  lesson  thoroughly,  thus  proving  one's 
natural  abilities ;  and  to  win  love,  one  need  only 
be  worthy  of  it,  as  obliging,  self-forgetting  people 
ever  are. 

"  The  noble  dignify  employments  be  they 
ever  so  mean,  but  the  insignificant  must  derive 
all  their  dignity  from  their  employments.  I 
respect  myself  so  much  when  I  have  accom- 
plished some  task  which  others  would  shrink 
from  as  too  far  below  them;  and  self-respect  is 
more  valuable  than  even  renown,  for  it  is  never 
falsely  won.  It  is  easy  to  deceive  others,  but 
very  difficult  to  deceive  one's  self." 


24  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

Here  she  became  much  loved  by  that  mag- 
nificently endowed  woman,  Mary  Lyon.  Here 
she  formed  a  friendship  for  another  teacher, 
hardly  less  talented,  which  blossomed  like  a 
perennial  rose-tree  throughout  her  life.  Here 
she  easily  won  the  respect  and  attachment  of 
classmates  and  fellow-pupils  to  which  she  and 
they  ever  clung  with  a  tenacity  rarely  beheld. 
Between  herself  and  one  of  these  fellow-pupils 
the  attachment  then  formed  became  and  con- 
tinued through  life  like  that  between  sisters, 
beautifying  the  existence  of  each  while  she  was 
in  health,  and  hallowing  by  the  tenderness  of 
its  mutual  expression  the  moments  among  her 
latest  on  earth.  Writing  since  her  death,  this 
fellow-pupil  says :  **  In  early  life  I  gave  to 
Emmie  a  large  share  of  affection  which  grew 
with  my  growth  and  strengthened  with  my 
strength.  Her  appreciation  of  every  loving  word 
and  thought  made  me,  when  I  was  not  with 
her,  look  forward  to  her  coming  North  with 
impatience." 

There  was  a  third  friend  whose  childhood 
home  had  been  so  near  to  hers  that  from  win- 


Love  of  Miss  Lyon  and  Fellow -Pupils.      25 

dow  to  window  they  could  almost  join  hands ; 
whose  heart  was  ever  as  near  to  hers  as  had  been 
home  to  home ;  whose  gentle  voice  and  light 
step  were  ever  music  to  her  ear,  and  whose  en- 
deared presence  had  brought  joy  or  comfort  in 
thousands  of  life's  varied  experiences.  These 
three  friends  !  what  a  beautiful  picture  did  they 
make  in  her  overflowing  eyes,  and  afterwards,  in 
her  faithful  memory,  as  they  stood,  gathered  to 
utter  their  annual  sweet  farewell,  grouped  upon 
the  door-step  of  the  old  Temple  street  house,  with 
the  autumn  winds  swaying  and  murmuring  in  the 
overhanging  elms,  playfully  vieing  with  each 
other  for  her  last  salutation,  and  finally  breathing 
their  triple  benediction  as  she  drove  away  to  com- 
mence her  southward  journey ! 

Another  kindred  spirit,  an  uninterruptedly  and 
fondly  lov^d  and  loving  schoolmate  at  the  sem- 
inary, one  of  whose  letters,  written  from  Dresden, 
contained  the  last  written  words  of  affection 
received  by  her  on  earth,  writes  since  her  death : 
**  There  is  no  one  outside  my  immediate  family 
whose  death  could  have  so  overcome  me  as 
does   Emily's.     The    world    seems   darker   and 


26  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

poorer  for  her  loss,  and  I  can  look  forward  joy- 
fully to  the  time  when  I,  too,  may  lay  my  burden 
down  and  go  to  her  in  some  of  the  many  man- 
sions prepared  for  the  ransomed  ones." 

Here  at  the  seminary,  too,  she  felt  the  influ- 
ence of  divine  grace,  and  enjoyed  vivid  religious 
experiences.  The  severe  winters  in  that  latitude 
told  upon  her  physical  organization  and  caused 
an  illness  which  somewhat  interrupted  her  prog- 
ress in  her  studies ;  but  she  left  the  seminary, 
carrying  with  her  acquisitions  in  her  knowledge 
which  her  quick  perception,  energy,  and  industry 
rendered  unusually  extended,  with  the  stimulus 
and  suggestions  which  contact  with  such  an  order 
of  minds  as  were  teachers  in  that  school  of  learn- 
ing must  give,  and  with  her  affections  enriched 
by  friendships,  the  delightful  intimacies  of  which 
death  alone  interrupted. 


On  the  Continent.  27 


III 

Travel  Abroad. 

IN  185 1  she  went  abroad  with  her  sister  Catha- 
rine, Mrs.  Bliss,  and  her  brother-in-law, 
George  Bliss.  The  circumstance  of  her  going 
and  being  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss  while  she  was 
in  Great  Britain,  aided  her  much  in  the  harvest  of 
ideas  which  she  gathered  abroad.  For  they  at  that 
time  lived  in  England,  and  thus  she  saw,  through 
them  and  their  friends,  English  life  and  English 
homes ;  and,  too,  they  were  of  such  active  minds 
and  discriminating  judgments  as  to  aid  vastly  a 
younger  traveler  capacitated  and  eager  to  learn. 
But  her  observations  upon  the  Continent,  as 
well  as  in  England,  must  have  been  of  a  thought- 
ful and  thorough  character,  for  she  had  derived 
such  rare  and  complete  knowledge  as  enabled  her 
to  give,  in  after  years,  not  alone  an  account  of 
meritorious  works  of  art  and  memorable  beauties 
of  scenery,  but  to  combine  and  blend  all  with 
4 


28  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

great  events  of  history,  and,  what  is  far  more 
unusual  and  a  far  better  test  of  talent  in  the  voy- 
ager, to  give  you  in  a  word  an  estimate  of  the 
various  peoples  and  to  explain  their  national  and 
local  traits.  Of  all  those  who  have  sojourned 
abroad,  from  whom  I  have  been  privileged  to 
derive  ideas  freely  through  daily  conversation,  I 
think  her  conceptions  and  inferences  were  the 
most  vividly  clear,  most  thoroughly  founded,  and 
most  valuable  in  their  application  to  daily  living. 

As  showing  the  child-likeness  of  her  nature  and 
her  deep  love  for  friends  at  home,  I  make  an  ex- 
tract from  a  letter  written  by  her,  when  in  Paris, 
to  the  teacher-friend  whom  she  had  so  learned 
to  love  and  who  had  so  learned  to  love  her  at 
the  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary.  She  writes:  ''I 
would  gladly  relinquish  all  this  for  one  quiet  hour 
with  you.  It  would  be  no  sacrifice  to  me,  love,  to 
exchange  the  allurements  of  this  beguiling  metrop- 
olis for  your  quiet  home." 

I  insert  extracts  from  one  of  her  published  let- 
ters written  from  London  upon 

The  Tower,  the  Abbey,  the  Palaces,  and 
Hyde  Park,  in  London. 


Westminster  Abbey.  29 


IV 

Her  Letters. 
THE    ABBEY   AND    THE    TOWER. 

"  13 UT  St.  Paul's  had  little  Interest  for  me  com- 
jL)  pared  with  that  which  Westminster  Abbey 
inspired.  If  you  would  learn  life's  meaning  or 
death's  reality ;  if  you  would  know  the  emptiness 
of  fashion,  gold,  and  fame,  or  realize  the  worth 
of  time,  you  should  visit  Westminster  Abbey, 
where  the  head  that  schemed  and  toiled  for  power, 
the  form  before  which  nations  bowed,  the  heart 
that  bled  for  fame,  and  the  tawdry  leader  of  a 
butterfly  chase,  lie  paralyzed  in  death. 

"  The  world  seems  but  a  petty  stage  when  one 
looks  upon  its  famous  actors  stripped  of  their 
theatrical  accoutrements,  and,  wearied  with  the 
toil  of  their  exciting  parts,  sleeping  the  same 
untroubled  sleep  —  the  tyrant  and  the  victim  — 
power  and  weakness  —  riches  and  poverty  —  side 
by  side. 


^6  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

"  How  empty  seem  life's  glittering  baubles 
when  one  sees  the  robe  of  state  replaced  by  the 
winding-sheet;  how  vain  its  wide  distinctions 
when  the  mightiest  monarch,  like  his  humblest 
subject,  yields  to  the  same  King,  Death  ;  how 
childish  seem  the  heart's  strongest  passions,  when 
one  thinks  of  the  vast  multitude  who  loved  and 
hated  —  gloried  and  despaired  —  sorrowed  and 
rejoiced  —  who  suffered  and  enjoyed,  centuries 
ago,  as  we  are  doing  now !  Ambition's  frenzied 
dream,  the  mind's  electric  flashes,  love's  delirious 
happiness,  will  soon  be  to  us  what  they  have  long 
been  to  them. 

"  I  have  heard  many  a  sermon  from  the  text, 
'Vanity  of  Vanities,  all  is  vanity'  but  it  was  not 
until  I  trod  these  antique  aisles  that  its  reality 
came  over  me  with  all  the  force  of  actual  truth, 
and  sent  me  forth  into  the  world  again  with  a 
wiser  but  a  sadder  heart." 

THE    TOWER. 

"You  know  that  at  school  my  favorite  study 
was  history  ;  but  I  never  read  such  thrilling  pages 


The  Tower  of  London.  3 1 

of  it  in  any  book  as  one  finds  written  all  over  the 
walls  of  yonder  old  gray  tower.  You  ask  me  to 
tell  you  of  Castles,  Palaces,  and  Monuments ;  and 
there  all  the  three  are  comprised  in  one  ;  for  surely 
no  monument  could  be  more  teeming  with  records 
of  the  past  than  this  very  tower  —  so  famous  as  the 
palace,  the  fortress,  and  the  prison  of  by-gone  years. 
It  is  interesting  to  the  artist  for  its  picturesque 
situation  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames ;  to  the  anti- 
quary, as  a  relic  of  William  the  Conqueror's  time  ; 
and,  more  than  all,  to  the  historian,  as  the  scene 
of  those  national  dramas  whose  influence  on  the 
country  and  its  people  is  even  now  discernible. 

"  The  stone  stairs^  beneath  which  were  buried 
the  bodies  of  the  infant  princes,  were  all  I  saw  of 
Richard's  bloody  tragedy ;  and  the  heading-block 
and  axe  that  formed  the  closing  scene  of  Essex's 
life  are  now  the  only  traces  left  of  the  comedy  of 
vanity  performed  by  the  ruffled  queen  who  played 
her  cards  so  well,  till  Juarts  were  trumps.  One 
hears  of  things  like  these  with  that  kind  of  interest 
we  give  to  romance  spun  from  fancy's  web ;  but 
it  is  with  a  different  feeling  than  one  looks  upon 
the  very  field  where  the  battle  of  life  was  fought. 


32  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

"I  have  seemed  to  read  a /2z//«^  history  since 
the  day  I  sat  in  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  dungeon, 
and  trod  the  prison  floor  of  Anne  Boleyn,  Mary 
Stuart,  and  the  Lady  Jane  Grey.  The  faded  relics 
of  former  grandeur  tell  their  stories  of  the  quondam 
palace  ;  the  moat  around  the  buildings  marks  the 
fortress ;  and  the  warders,  dressed  in  the  costume 
they  wore  in  the  Elizabethan  age,  remind  the 
visitor  of  the  old  tower's  prison  days. 

**  Every  stranger  is  led  through  sundry  long, 
dark,  narrow  passages  into  a  tiny  closet,  occupied 
by  a  wizened  crone,  the  impersonation  of  one's 
fancy  picture  of  the  Witch  of  Endor.  She  is  hab- 
ited in  a  blue  petticoat  and  a  stiffly  starched  short 
gown,  and  hanging  from  her  waist  is  the  ponder- 
ous key  to  the  iron-bound  door  that  opens  upon 
the  regalia.  Here,  one  is  forcibly  reminded  of 
the  old  aphorism  about  'riches  taking  to  them- 
selves wings,'  by  the  iron  cage  which  incloses  the 
royal  paraphernalia,  and  by  the  heavy  chains  that 
attach  each  article  to  its  place.  Thereby  hangs 
an  omen  of  the  connection  between  the  palace  and 
the  prison.  The  jargon  of  the  old  woman,  who 
strove  to  teach  us  that  those  four  walls  comprised 


The  Royal  Palaces  of  London.  33 

'all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and  she  their 
sovereign  was,'  wearied  me ;  and  the  gold  and 
jewels  seemed  of  far  less  worth  than  the  lives  that 
had  been  pawned  for  them.  So  I  quickly  turned 
away  from  the  Crown  beneath  which  so  many  heads 
had  ached,  and  the  scepter  that  bloody  hands  had 
swayed,  to  breathe  2,  freer  air ;  for  the  atmosphere 
of  those  prison  walls  oppressed  my  heart  with  the 
great  truths  that  since  the  morning  had  been  sealed 
thereon.  But  I  shall  spend  another  day  at  the 
Tower  before  we  leave  London,  for  well  I  know 
that  it  teaches  lessons  more  wise,  truths  more 
profound,  than  all  the  books  man's  pen  ever 
wrote." 

THE    PALACES    OF    LONDON. 

**  The  present  palaces  of  London  rather  dis- 
appoint my  expectations  as  to  outward  grandeur, 
but,  within^  nothing  can  exceed  their  luxurious 
elegance.  Kensington  Palace,  where  the  child- 
hood of  Queen  Victoria  was  spent,  is  extremely 
irregular  in  structure  ;  and  St.  James's,  where  she 
still  holds  her  levees,  appears  more  like  a  huge 
pile  of  bricks  than  a  royal  dwelling-place ;    but 


34  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

within  its  portals  there  are  saloons  of  immense 
size,  magnificently  decorated.  Buckingham  Pal- 
ace forms  the  winter  home  of  the  Royal  Family  ; 
but  even  that  would  be  quite  unpretending,  if  it 
were  not  for  the  charm  of  a  situation  in  Hyde 
Park.  It  has  little  merit  in  an  architectural  point 
of  view,  for  it  is  only  a  combination  of  many  dif- 
ferent designs  that  from  time  to  time  have  re- 
modeled and  enlarged  without  improving  its 
appearance,  and  left  at  last  the  Buckingham 
House  of  George  the  Third's  reign,  modernized." 

HYDE    PARK. 

"  Far  away  to  the  westward  of  the  vast  and 
crowded  metropolis,  stretches  the  three  hundred 
and  fifty  acres  of  open  ground  known  as  Hyde 
Park,  beautifully  diversified  with  grassy  hillocks, 
clover-grown  knolls,  and  tiny  moss-lined  valleys. 
Through  it  flow  the  clear  waters  of  the  Serpen- 
tine, reflecting  flowery  banks  and  the  leafy 
branches  of  tall  trees  that  rock  the  nests  of  sum- 
mer birds  whose  thrilling  melodies  the  very  beg- 
gars are  rich  enough  to  buy. 


Hyde  Park.  35 

"I  never  saw  anything  half  so  perfect  as  this 
lovely  picture  of  the  country,  spread  out  in  the 
very  heart  of  a  great  city,  to  refresh  with  equal 
benefit  careworn  inhabitants  of  narrow,  thickly 
crowded  alleys,  and  the  sicklier  cheeks  of  the  more 
crowded  drawing-room  occupants.  It  gives  a 
charming  feature  to  a  city  landscape,  especially  in 
the  eye  of  one  who  comes  from  a  land  where  the 
feverish  eagerness  to  turn  everything  into  gold  is 
always  drowning  the  voice  of  Nature  in  the  noisy 
din  of  business  —  where  trees  are  only  beautiful 
for  the  cords  of  wood  they  will  make,  and  pleas- 
ure grounds  are  eye-sores  because  they  ^  might 
have  been  sold  for  three  hundred  pence,'  and 
turned  to  mechanical  uses  ! 

"You  should  see  Hyde  Park  of  a  Sunday,  to 
get  an  idea  of  London's  population  and  London's 
wealth.  You  would  think  it  were  some  gala  day, 
as  your  eye  wandered  over  the  motley  throng  of 
showily  dressed  people  who  are  then  sure  to  fill 
this  favorite  resort.  It  seems  like  a  triumphal 
procession  —  the  long  line  of  stylish-looking 
equipages  that  extends  from  one  end  to  the  other 
of  those  immense  grounds.     There  are  majestic 

5 


36  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

cavaliers  beside  splendid  carriages  filled  with 
beautiful  women  in  costly  robes  —  decorated 
with  golden  crests,  and  drawn  by  superb  horses 
guided  by  coachmen  in  powdered  wigs  and  gay 
liveries.  The  footpaths,  too,  are  thronged  with 
people  from  a  humbler  walk  of  life  —  people  in 
their  holiday  dresses  and  their  holiday  smiles ! 
The  effect  is  so  imposing,  that  if  you  were  to  see 
only  the  kaleidoscope  views  of  life  that  one  gets 
in  Hyde  Park  of  a  Sunday  afternoon,  you  would 
take  it  for  an  Elysium  of  beauty  and  pleasure, 
rather  than  the  thing  of  toil  and  care  and  sorrow 
that  it  is.  But  the  every-day  side  of  the  picture 
would  quickly  break  the  spell.  All  the  live-long 
week,  misery  and  want  and  wretchedness  are  toil- 
ing in  the  self- same  thoroughfares,  with  aching 
limbs  and  breaking  hearts  and  tearful  eyes ;  for 
one-half  the  world  must  toil  and  sweat  and  groan, 
that  the  other  half  may  thrive  and  rejoice.  The 
London  streets  are  thronged  with  hoary  heads 
tottering  to  the  grave  and  craving  charity  to  pay 
their  way,  and  with  tiny  feet  just  pattering  into 
life,  that  are  already  learning  to  keep  time  to  the 
beggar's  voice.     I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  get  hard- 


Woman's  Mission.  ^'j 

ened  to  the  piteous  tales  that  startle  one's  ears  at 
every  step,  and  the  ragged  types  of  suffering  that 
make  one's  eyes  wet  and  one's  heart  sick." 

After  her  return  from  Europe,  cultured  as  she 
was  by  her  studies  at  the  schools,  by  much  travel 
and  by  social  intercourse  with  highly  educated 
people,  she  seems  to  have  loved  to  write. 

I  insert  an  extract  from  one  of  her  published 
letters,  written  in  1855,  on  the  "Mission  of 
Woman,"  another  from  the  same  letter  telling  of 
the  zest  with  which  she  had  enjoyed  a  summer 
in  "The  West,"  and  another  extract  from  some 
published  thoughts  of  hers  on  "  The  Closing 
Year." 

woman's  mission. 

"  To  raise  the  fallen  ;  to  relieve  the  oppressed ; 
to  comfort  the  sorrowing  ;  to  watch  over  the  sick ; 
to  be  strength  to  the  weary,  help  to  the  infirm, 
and  light  to  the  blind  —  this  is  woman's  sphere ; 
and  if  her  influence  ever  extend  to  political  affairs, 
it  is  an  influence  as  unseen  as  that  with  which 
Spring  carpets  the  fields  and  freshens  the  trees  — 


461874 


38  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

such  an  influence  as  flowers  have  on  poetry,  as  air 
has  on  music,  as  Hght  has  on  life." 

A    HAPPY    SUMMER    IN   THE    WEST. 

"But  I  am  wandering  from  the  luxuriance  of 
life  to  its  desolation.  I  began  to  tell  you  how 
much  more  beautiful  has  been  this  summer  than 
any  other  summer  I  ever  knew.  Perhaps  the 
change  of  climate  has  strengthened  my  nerves 
and  brightened  my  vision;  or,  perhaps,  being 
nearer  sundown  gives  everything  a  softer  radi- 
ance ;  at  all  events,  I  certainly  do  see  things  in  a 
better  light.  I  have  looked  at  life  through  the 
laughing  eyes  of  childhood  and  through  the  clearer 
eyes  of  youth,  but  it  never  before  looked  such  a 
glad,  bright,  glorious  thing.  I  have  drank  it  from 
mountain  rills  and  from  city  fountains,  but  it  never 
seemed  a  luxury  till  now. 

"  There  has  been  always  a  tone  of  sadness  in  my 
song  that  told  of  a  cold  and  hollow,  a  blighting, 
bitter  world ;  but  of  late  the  tune  has  changed. 
*  Oh  World,  with  all  thy  faults  I  love  thee  still ! ' 

"  In  other  years  I  could  have  died  unmurmur 


The  Closing  Year.  39 

ingly  ;  now,  earth  seems  to  obeautiful  to  leave,  and 
every  day  I  pray,  'oh  let  me  live.'  This  season 
has  been  to  me  a  volume  of  beautiful  pictures,  and 
upon  each  successively  I  have  gazed  with  ever- 
new  delight.  I  shall  see  the  last  leaf  of  Western 
scenery  turn  with  inexpressible  regret." 

THE    CLOSING    YEAR. 

**  I  remember  to  have  seen  in  one  of  the  watch 
factories  in  Geneva,  Switzerland,  a  little  statue  of 
an  auctioneer  standing  under  a  red  flag,  holding  in 
his  hand  a  time-piece.  The  man's  attitude  was  so 
perfect,  his  expression  so  eager,  so  hurried  and  so 
alert,  in  short,  the  whole  representation  was  so 
complete,  that  one's  imagination  endued  the  clock 
with  a  voice  that  made  every  tick  seem  to  utter 
the  word  'going.'  It  was  a  very  pretty  way  of 
reminding  everybody  that  time  is  going,  going, 
going,  that  time  may  soon  be  gone.  Longfellow 
attributes  to  the  clock's  voice  the  words  '  for- 
ever—  never.'  Pierpont  refers  to  the  swinging 
pendulum  as  always  whispering  'passing  away,' 
and  some  other  poet  calls  the  clock's  tick  '  that 


40  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

voice  which  forbids  procrastination  by  incessantly 
calling  now,  now,  now.'  To  persons  whose  pow- 
erful imagination  or  acute  sense  of  hearing  thus 
invests  matter  with  life,  no  better  warning  is 
needed,  for  such  can  see  the  sands  of  life  wasting 
in  an  hour-glass,  and  the  lamp  of  life  go  out  in 
every  sunset ;  such  can  hear  requiems  in  the  night 
wind,  and  read  elegies  in  the  fading  leaves.  But 
for  the  mass  of  men,  whose  thoughts  are  drowned 
in  the  noisy  din  of  business,  or  whose  perceptions 
are  blunted  by  contact  with  the  world,  the  anni- 
versary holidays  of  Christmas  and  New  Year 
are  untold  blessings.  They  are  the  observatories 
of  life,  whence  men  gaze  out  into  the  past  and 
learn  how  much  can  happen  in  a  year.  From 
such  a  view,  men  come  down  better,  if  not  hap- 
pier. To  mark  attentively  what  has  been, 
makes  one  tremble  for  what  is  to  be.  The 
light  in  the  eye  may  fade,  the  rose  on  the  cheek 
may  pale,  the  light  of  the  heart  may  imper- 
ceptibly lessen  in  the  present,  but  in  the  pict- 
ures of  the  past  these  things  strike  us  most 
startlingly." 


Revisit  to  Niagara.  41 

I  add  an  extract  from  a  published  letter  upon 

A    REVISIT    TO    NIAGARA. 

"  Years  ago,  I  had  stood  on  the  self-same  spot 
and  seen  its  flight  as  hurried,  and  its  rapids  dash 
and  foam  as  wildly.  Had  they  never  rested  since  ? 
Would  they  always  keep  pace  with  the  flight  of 
time  ?  It  tired  me  to  think  of  it ;  so  I  turned  away 
in  search  of  the  high  rocks  over  which  geography 
used  to  say  670,000  tons  of  water  fall  every 
moment.  The  mighty  rushing  sound  of  many 
waters  proclaimed  them  near;  and  surrounding 
space  echoed  and  reechoed  the  words,  'Al- 
mighty, Eternal,  Immutable,'  from  that  voice  of 
thunder  which  God  tuned  at  the  foundation  of 
the  world  to  sing  His  Omnipotence  so  long  as 
time  should  last.  The  whole  scene  was  as  if  I  had 
left  it  only  yesterday ;  the  river  still  flowed  on 
over  its  emerald  bed,  and  the  foaming  cataract 
was  sending  up  its  incense  of  spray,  now  as  before. 

**  Fowler,  the  famous  phrenologist,  once  told  me 
that  I  had  nohum^  oi  Revere7tce,  and  others  vainly 
have  tried  to  excite  the  emotion  since. 


42  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

"  The  idols  to  which  Society  bows  have  always 
seemed,  like  myself,  of  the  earth,  earthy,  and  I  have 
scorned  to  yield  homage  to  such ;  but  Niagara, 
the  unfathomable,  all-conquering  and  resistless, 
the  magnificently  terrible  and  overwhelmingly 
grand,  seemed  a  fit  shrine  at  which  to  bend,  and 
involuntarily  I  knelt  before  it,  under  the  influence 
of  a  strange  awe  that  would  have  trembled  into 
actual  fear,  had  I  not  chanced  to  raise  my  eyes 
and  see  God's  bow  of  promise  lying  on  the 
Lunar  Fall/  Then  I  remembered,  that  though 
Niagara  was  great,  He  that  created  Niagara  is 
greater. 

"  The  crushed  violets  beneath  me  sent  forth  per- 
fume to  whisper  that  their  tiny  lives  were  nour- 
ished by  the  cataract's  spray ;  and  little  birds 
sang  sweetly  over  their  torrent  home,  knowing 
that  *  He  careth  for  them.'  So  I  said  to  myself, 
'Are  you  not  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows  ?' 
and  went  on  my  way  along  the  precipice's  edge, 
and,  like  the  flowers  and  the  birds,  was  not  afraid." 

Her  description  of  her  loved  New  Haven  and 
of  the  bells  summoning  to  church  on  the  Sabbath 
morning  there,  will,  by  its  fidelity  and  vividness, 


New  Haven  Described.  43 

bring  the  place  and  hour  before  all  familiar  with 
them  : 

"  The  surrounding  hills,  which  by  right  belong 
to  the  Green  Mountains  of  Vermont,  look  down 
upon  an  unbroken  level  that  is  divided  into 
squares  by  streets  lined  with  magnificent  elms,  so 
placed  at  regular  intervals  that  the  interlaced 
branches  of  opposite  trees  form,  from  one  extrem- 
ity of  a  street  to  another,  the  most  perfect  arch. 
These  trees,  gigantic  in  size  and  most  luxuriant  in 
foliage,  are  said  to  have  resulted  from  a  poet's 
dream  of  beauty,  and  to  have  been  planted  some 
seventy  years  ago  by  a  poet's  hand.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  they  have  christened  their  dwelling-place 
with  a  most  poetical  sobriquet,  *  The  City  of 
Elms' 

'* '  City  of  Steeples '  would  be  an  appropriate, 
name,  for  I  never  saw  so  many  churches  within  so 
small  a  compass.  As  you  sit  at  the  Tontine  of  a 
Sunday  morning,  and  hear  the  holy  Sabbath  still- 
ness broken  by  the  loud,  clear  music  of  their  va- 
rious bells,  each  within  a  stone's-throw  of  the  other, 
and  all  blending  in  the  most  perfect  harmony,  you 
seem  to  have  found  your  way  nearer  to  Heaven 
6 


44  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

than  you  ever  were  before.  Then,  when  the  last 
throng  you  have  watched  crossing  the  neatly  kept 
green  disappears  from  your  sight,  and  the  church 
doors  close,  leaving  the  great  outer  temple  de- 
serted, involuntarily  you  wander  forth,  wooed  by 
the  cool,  inviting  shade,  and  entranced  by  the 
music  of  the  myriads  of  birds  that  build  in  the  old 
elm  boughs  without  any  one  to  molest  or  make 
them  afraid.  You  would  find  it  no  difficult  matter 
to  imagine  yourself  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  and 
easily  forget  that  man  was  driven  forth  to  earn 
his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow. 

"The  society  of  New  Haven  must  be  highly 
intelligent  and  refined,  for  the  venerable  seat  of 
learning  in  their  midst  makes  the  interest  of  the 
people  collegiate  rather  than  commercial,  and 
gives  a  literary  tone  to  everything  in  its  vicinity." 

I  add  her  account  of  an  orphan  whom  she  saw 
in  the  Asylum  there,  and  of  her  deep  and  intense 
feelings  in  contemplating  one  so  young,  so  beauti- 
ful, and  so  unfortunate : 

"  A  striking  instance  of  this  unequal  distribu- 
tion of  fortune's  favors  came  within  my  sphere  of 
observation   in   New    Haven,      At   the   Orphan 


The  Little  Orphan.  45 

Asylum  of  that  place  I  saw  twenty-five  or  thirty 
children  of  various  ages,  between  three  and  twelve. 
There  were  bright-eyed  boys  and  laughing-lipped 
girls  sitting  in  their  little  school-room  when  I  en- 
tered. They  were  singing  *  I  want  to  be  an  angel,' 
and  most  of  them  looked  to  be  so  much  of  the 
earth,  earthy,  that  I  couldn't  help  thinking  through 
what  a  long  series  of  transmigrations  their  souls 
would  have  to  pass  before  they  could  realize  their 
wish  to  change  the  human  into  divine. 

"  But,  amid  the  crowd  of  little  faces  uplifted  to 
watch  the  visitors  whose  idle  curiosity  they  were 
trained  to  satisfy,  I  really  saw  but  one.  A  little 
girl,  of  infantile  proportions  and  baby  features, 
threw  over  me  a  spell  which  it  was  impossible  to 
arrest  or  displace.  I  cannot  tell  you  whether  she 
was  a  blonde  or  brunette.  I  did  not  even  guess 
her  age  or  learn  her  name,  but  I  am  sure  she  will 
haunt  me  forever.  She  carried  about  her  some 
strange  charm  that  with  magnetic  power  drew  her 
to  my  heart,  and  left  there  the  picture  of  a  cherub 
that  comes  up  before  me  to  illustrate  the  pen  of 
every  poet,  and  to  rival  the  dream  of  every  artist. 
I  found  her,  as  it  were,  something  I  had  wanted 


46  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

all  my  life-long  without  knowing  it,  and  there 
she  stood,  just  within  my  reach  and  yet  so  far 
beyond  it. 

"  To  me  there  is  something  heart-rending  in 
the  sight  of  a  motherless  child.  Like  some  lone 
bark,  tossed  by  mighty  billows,  I  tremble  for  it. 
My  heart  yearns  for  it,  and  my  hand  involuntarily 
stretches  out  to  protect  it.  I  want  to  shelter  it  in 
my  own  arms,  cradle  it  on  my  own  breast,  comfort 
it  all  my  life  ;  and  yet,  as  I  sat  there  among  those 
poor  little  orphans,  with  the  tears  rolling  down  my 
cheek,  I  seemed  to  forget  them  all  in  one,  or 
rather  to  concentrate  the  misery  of  all  in  that  one 
whom  I  longed  to  secure  from  sorrow  and  misfort- 
une. I  drew  the  little  creature  to  my  side,  caught 
her  in  my  arms,  and  kissed  her  time  and  time  again. 
She  received  my  caresses  in  the  most  matter-of- 
course  way,  and  heard  my  praises  as  heedlessly 
as  if  she  had  been  used  to  them  all  her  life.  Other 
children  gathered  around,  envyingly,  and  seemed 
to  crave  the  notice  which  she  so  lightly  esteemed; 
and  if  it  had  been  money  they  asked,  I  could  have 
easily  scattered  it  among  them,  but  my  affections 
went  forth  only  to  her. 


Lady  Franklin.  47 

"  This  is  only  a  single  instance  ;  but  the  '  New 
Testament '  will  give  you  another ;  for,  though  it 
mentions  many  men  who  came  to  our  Saviour, 
of  only  one  does  it  say,  *  Now,  when  Jesus  looked 
upon  the  young  man.  He  loved  him.' " 


V 

Interest  in  Lady  Franklin. 

BUT  of  all  her  published  thoughts,  those  which 
attracted  most  attention  and  elicited  most 
admiration,  not  only  from  scholars,  but  also  from 
all  generous-minded  people,  were  her  soul-stirring 
appeals,  written  and  published  with  a  view  to 
arouse  public  and  individual  efforts  for  the  dis- 
covery of  the  fate  which  had  overtaken  Sir  John 
Franklin.  I  subjoin  an  extract  from  one  of  these 
fervent  letters : 

"  '  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick.'  Go, 
ask  the  Lady  Franklin  what  that  saying  meaneth. 
She  has  watched  for  steps  that  come  not ;  she  has 


48  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

long  and  vainly  listened  for  a  once  familiar  voice. 
She  has  seen  the  fairest  hopes  a  fond  heart  ever 
cherished  grow  ripe  with  expectation,  only  to 
fade  and  droop  and  die  under  the  chilling  blasts 
of  disappointment. 

"  Day  by  day  she  has  waited,  trusted,  believed, 
only  to  find  patience,  trust,  and  hope  empty  delu- 
sions, bitter  mockeries,  until  days  have  grown  into 
weeks,  and  months  become  years. 

"  Full  well  she  knows  the  agony  of  harrowing 
suspense  that  fears  to  hope  the  best,  and  refuses  to 
believe  the  worst ;  that  clings  to  straws  and  chases 
fire-flies,  pining  for  hope  and  yearning  for  light. 

"  Her  busy  thoughts  have  drawn  from  the  long 
fibres  of  possibility  every  conceivable  excuse  for 
such  unreasonable  delay.  Daylight  fancies  and 
nightly  dreams  have  portrayed  every  variety  of 
suffering  to  aggravate  the  already  painful  circum- 
stances ;  for,  while  the  certainty  of  evil  has  a  limit, 
where  the  sufferer  finds  at  least  a  resting-place, 
suspense  is  boundless,  illimitable,  reflecting  itself 
in  everything,  until  its  cause  is  magnified  a  hun- 
dred-fold. Positive  grief  falls  on  the  heart  a  heavy 
blow ;  but  its  hopelessness  is  its  own  cure.    Time 


Lady  Franklin.  49 

heals  the  wound  and  wears  away  the  scar,  and 
useless  lamentation  gives  place  to  stoical  indiffer- 
ence or  heavenly  resignation ;  but,  in  suspense, 
expectancy  keeps  the  sorrow  always  fresh,  the 
heart  always  sore,  and  the  days  and  weeks  and 
years  that  pass  over  it  only  serve  to  irritate  and 
inflame  the  wound. 

**  Suspense  is  the  slowest  but  surest  canker  that 
ever  preyed  upon  human  vitals ;  and  there  is  no 
greater  benefactor  to  his  kind  than  he  who  endeav- 
ors to  draw  it  from  the  heart  doomed  to  its  har- 
rowing caprices.  The  generous  and  humane  who 
have  spent  their  energies  or  their  wealth  in  search 
of  certainty,  by  which  to  minister  to  minds  long 
diseased  with  suspense,  require  no  eulogies.  In 
their  consciousness  of  magnanimity  have  they  their 
own  exceeding  great  reward. 

"  The  volunteers,  who  '  took  their  lives  in  their 
hands  '  and  went  forth  over  the  pathless  waves  in 
search  of  the  lost  ones,  needed  not  shouts  of 
applause  to  mark  their  going,  or  triumphal  pro- 
cessions to  greet  their  return.  Far  across  the  sea, 
there  dwells  a  noble  heart  whose  thoughts  and. 
hopes  followed  them  on  all  their  dangerous  way. 


50  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

And  *  He  who  keepeth  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of 
His  hand,'  listening  to  that  lone  heart's  prayer  for 
them,  calmed  the  troubled  waves  and  tempered 
the  mighty  winds,  that  they  wafted  the  mari- 
ners safely  home.  And,  though  their  trusty  ships 
brought  not  the  long- watched- for  wanderer  back 
again,  the  widowed  one  hailed  joyfully  their  com- 
ing, even  as  she  felt  gratefully  their  going.  The 
hopes  and  thanks  and  prayers  of  such  a  soul,  are 
they  not  pearls  of  great  price  ?  I  have  no  words 
in  which  to  express  my  admiration  of  the  noble 
Lady  Franklin.  She  is  an  honor  to  my  sex,  such 
as  the  records  of  time  have  known  of  but  few. 

"The  fortitude,  energy,  and  perseverance  which 
have  characterized  her  during  all  the  season  of 
trial,  which  would  have  entirely  paralyzed  most 
women,  must  win  for  her  the  respect  of  all  man- 
kind, even  as  it  has  enlisted  the  earnest  sympa- 
thies of  the  whole  civilized  world.  A  sincere 
Christian,  a  model  wife, 

"*A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned.* 

"  Such,  I  am  sure,  is  the  Lady  Jane  —  fit  help- 
meet for  such  a  husband  as  the  noble  patriot,  the 


Appreciation  of  Her  Letters.  5 1 

brave  seaman,  the  generous,  self-sacrificing  Sir 
John  Franklin. 

"  The  world  is  ringing  with  this  earnest  cry  — 
'  Wanted — Hearts  to  feel  for  the  sufferings  of  the 
perishing — hands  to  relieve  the  necessities  of  the 
destitute — and  minds  to  determine  for  them  the 
simplest  and  surest  mode  of  relief.' 

"  If  so  deep  the  interest  felt  for  those  who  at- 
tempt to  settle  this  doubtful  question,  what  words 
can  paint  the  warm  glow  of  sympathy  that  will 
kindle  in  every  heart  when  this  crisis  of  suspense 
is  passed,  and  the  world  breathes  forth  its  wel- 
come to  the  wanderer,  its  blessing  on  his  saviour  ? 
For  whom  is  reserved  that  honorable  title  ?  The 
Roman  triumphs  were  not  so  great,  for  they  re- 
joiced over  the  lost ;  here  will  be  the  holy  grati- 
tude of  the  saved.  The  Grecian  conquests  were 
not  so  bold,  for  they  did  not  overcome  unknown 
obstacles." 

Henry  Grinnell,  whose  philanthropy  in  fur- 
nishing vessels  for  the  Arctic  Expedition  is  re- 
membered with  patriotic  pride  by  every  American, 
so  forcibly  felt  the  magnanimity  and  power  of 
those  letters,  that  he  gave  a  dinner  in  honor  of 

7 


52  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

their  author.  The  entertainment  was  given  on 
Bond  street,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  in  the  year 
1854.  A  distinguished  company  was  present  to 
meet  her,  among  them  Dr.  Elisha  Kent  Kane,  who 
pubHshed  "A  Narrative  of  the  Expedition  in 
search  of  Sir  John  FrankUn." 

She  received,  also,  from  Lady  Franklin  herself, 
a  letter  in  which  she  expressed  her  deep  sense  of 
gratitude  for  those  valued  appeals  to  the  Ameri- 
can mind  in  behalf  of  herself  and  her  knowledge- 
loving  husband. 

The  letters  from  which  the  foregoing  extracts 
have  been  made  are  characterized  by  such  pre- 
cision in  idea  and  expression,  by  such  comprehen- 
siveness and  condensed  and  sustained  energy  of 
thought,  by  such  beauty  and  grandeur  of  imagery, 
and  by  such  elevation  and  tenderness  of  feeling ; 
the  fire  and  touch  of  genius  is  so  unmistakably  in 
them,  and  to  such  a  degree  had  she  interested  in- 
tellectual people  in  her  writings,  that  success  and 
fame  of  no  mean  order  were  already  assured  to  her 
in  the  walks  of  literature,  had  she  continued  in 
them. 


Life  as  Mrs.  Armstrong.  53 


VI 

Life  as  the  Wife  of  Captain  James  F.  Armstrong. 

IN  January,  1858,  she  intermarried  with  Cap- 
tain James  F.  Armstrong,  of  the  United  States 
Navy.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  excellent  family, 
was  a  member  of  the  Society  of  the  Cincinnati, 
was  a  man  of  unusual  intelligence,  great  frankness 
of  character,  polished  manners,  and  abounded  in 
agreeable  information  which  he  had  gathered  in 
his  intercourse  with  a  large  circle  of  highly  edu- 
cated friends,  and  in  the  multiplied  and  varied 
voyages  he  had  made  as  naval  commander. 

His  was  a  tender  and  affectionate  nature  to- 
wards which  children  were  always  drawn.  He 
was  not  only  a  husband,  ever  kind  and  devoted, 
but  he  was  a  lover  throughout  his  married  life.  I 
knew  him  through  others,  chiefly  through  her, 
and  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  admiration  for 
his  character.  **  Good,  kind,  true,  noble-hearted, 
high-minded  man " :   these   are  the   words  with 


54  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

which  I  find  she  characterized  him  in  her  diary  upon 
one  of  the  recent  anniversaries  of  his  death,  and  his 
whole  life  showed  that  they  were  richly  deserved. 

As  his  wife,  her  social  life  was  largely  with 
those  brilliant  men  who  then  constituted  our  naval 
commanders,  and  their  not  less  brilliant  wives,  at 
the  various  naval  stations  where  her  husband, 
Captain  Armstrong,  was  in  command.  In  these 
circles,  the  richness  of  her  ideas,  the  sparkle  of  her 
conversation,  and  the  generosity  and  gracefulness 
of  her  hospitality  made  her  a  shining  ornament. 

Their  home  life  was  that  of  two  pure,  confiding 
natures,  striving  tenderly  to  make  each  other 
happy,  and  with  rare  capacity  to  afford  happiness. 
It  was  a  union  to  which  she  brought  the  large 
purposes  with  which  she  ever  enfolded  those  she 
loved.  It  was  a  union  productive  of  mutual  hap- 
piness, earnest  and  deep.  It  was  severed  by  the 
death  of  Captain  Armstrong,  in  the  early  part  of 
the  year  1873. 


Our  Marriage.  55 


VII 

Life  as  Wife  of  the  Author. 

ON  the  20th  day  of  October,  1874,  we  were 
married.  The  ceremony  was  performed  by 
President  Porter,  who,  in  addition  to  his  own  rela- 
tions as  a  friend  to  us,  was  the  husband  of  that 
choice  spirit  who  had  been  her  mother's,  and  ever 
was  her,  true  friend.  He  had  been  my  professor 
when  I  was  a  student  in  Yale  College.  We  were 
married  in  New  Haven,  in  Centre  Church,  where, 
for  the  period  of  fifty-eight  years,  her  parents 
had  worshiped,  the  calm  air  and  sacred  asso- 
ciations of  which  she  had  enjoyed  throughout 
childhood  and  youth,  and  almost  on  the  very 
spot,  where,  twenty  years  before,  I  had  stood  in 
delivering  my  philosophical  oration  at  Commence- 
ment. 

O  ye  joys  which  beam  upon  and  beckon  to  us 
from  out  the  glad  future  which  lies  before  all-ex- 
pectant youth,  and  which  ofttimes  fade  from  us. 


56  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

obscured  by  the  sorrows  and  narrowing  struggles 
of  later  years,  how  did  ye  then  come  thronging 
back  to  me  with  your  old-time,  glowing  aspect 
and  with  all  the  rapture  and  twice  the  tenderness 
of  your  early  promise  ! 

From  the  time  when,  in  assuming  our  marriage 
vows,  she  placed  her  hand  in  mine,  down  to  the 
hours  when,  cold  and  stiffening  in  death,  I  still 
clasped  it,  the  grasp  was  as  of  a  hand  reached 
down  from  heaven,  leading  me  thither.  Our  mar- 
ried life  was  to  me  "  another  morn  risen  on  mid- 
noon."  It  was  a  long  polar  day,  it  was  a  "walk 
through  meadows  blossom-paved."  She  was  so 
constituted  as  to  gather  the  elements  of  content 
and  diversion  and  progress  from  the  small,  as  well 
as  the  great,  events  of  life,  and  she  poured  forth 
her  ever-renewed,  exhaustless  treasures  of  thought 
before  her  companion,  keeping  full  every  recep- 
tivity of  enjoyment  by  her  playfulness,  her  sym- 
pathies, her  taste,  and  her  culture. 

Self-denying,  self-forgetting,  alike  in  sickness 
and  in  health,  she  followed  me  with  unslumbering 
care  and  upward-tending  suggestion  like  that  of 
the  ministering  spirits  sent  forth  from  God. 


Our  Joint  Life.  57 

Our  enjoyment  had  the  mellowness  of  the  mid- 
day of  life,  along  with  the  unabated  freshness  of 
its  youth.  It  was  found,  not  in  idyllic  leisure,  but 
amid  constant  occupation,  and  would  have  been  as 
complete  and  soul-satisfying  without  a  luxury  and 
in  the  straitened  ways  of  poverty,  or  even  by  the 
road-side,  as  it  was  in  our  houses  crowded  with 
comforts.  For  it  was  above  and  beyond  these 
accidents. 

The  radiant  and  pure  spirit  of  beauty  that  walks 
hand  in  hand  with  true  marriage,  comes  it  like  the 
wind  which  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  without  visi- 
ble origin  ?  So  that  it  is  found,  or,  alas  !  missed 
without  cause  ?  O  no  ;  it  emanates  from  what  are 
among  the  most  real,  as  well  as  the  best,  of  human 
attributes.  It  has  its  origin  and  sustenance  in 
mutual,  implicit  trust,  "  heart  answering  to  heart 
as  face  to  face  in  water  " ;  in  aims  and  aspirations 
formed  and  kept  so  plastic,  so  impressible,  that 
similitude,  almost  identity,  results ;  one  string  re- 
sponding to  another  with  music  when  it  is  not 
smitten,  because  the  key  or  pitch  is  the  same,  and 
because  there  are  borne  to  it  by  the  pulses  of 
the  air  its  own  cognate  vibrations,  awakening  its 


58  Emily  Saiiford  Billings. 

note  and  compelling  its  response  by  that  law  of 
harmony  which  slumbers  in  all  created  things  ; 
in  disinterestedness — in  habitually,  systematically 
finding  truest  development,  highest  satisfaction,  by 
each  in  honor,  in  ease,  and  in  happiness  preferring 
the  other. 

In  that  awfully  solemn  and  sublime  Apocalypse, 
revealed  in  the  Isle  of  Patmos  to  that  "beloved 
disciple  "  who  styles  himself  as  **  brother  and  com- 
panion in  tribulation,"  the  mystical  suggestion  of 
both  David  and  Isaiah  is  adopted  as  a  distinct 
symbol,  and  the  Saviour  and  His  organized  follow- 
ers are  represented  as  "  The  Lamb  "  and  "  His 
Bride."  The  exalted  possibilities,  inhering  in  true 
marriage,  it  is,  which  caused  it  thus  to  stand  forth 
as  the  divinely  selected  emblem  of  the  ineffably 
holy  intimacy  and  union  between  the  Redeemer 
and  His  Church  and  make  it  forever  true  that,  as 
in  our  Christian,  so  in  our  wedded  life,  may  we 
"  climb  on  stepping-stones  of  our  dead  selves  to 
higher  things." 

Among  those  who  shared  with  us  our  joy  on  the 
occasion  of  our  marriage  were  an  officer  in  our  navy 
and  his  gentle  and  loving  wife,  whose  joint  friend- 


The  Picture  of  Iris.  59 

ship  for  us  had  such  genial  warmth  and  inventive 
constancy  that  from  year  to  year  it  quickened 
our  lives,  like  the  sun's  rays  ;  and  whose  unosten- 
tatious, unslumbering,  tender  mutual  devotion  gave 
to  their  daily  married  life  the  rhythm  and  inspi- 
ration of  a  sweet,  rich  poem.  These  friends,  jour- 
neying for  years  abroad,  had  obtained  for  us  an 
oil-painting,  the  presentation  of  which  had  been 
unavoidably  delayed  until  both  fondly  loved  wives 
had  gone  from  us,  leaving  earthly  life  naught  but 
a  picture,  when  one  surviving  husband  in  solitude 
delivered  and  the  other  in  solitude  received  this 
now  inexpressibly  sacred  token.  The  painting 
was  of  Iris,  who  in  the  early  dawn,  the  earth 
still  covered  by  the  twilight  beneath,  is  bearing 
in  her  pitcher,  from  the  lakes  and  rivers  to  the 
clouds  which  are  lighted  up  by  the  breaking  day, 
the  water  which  the  poets  fabled  was  to  be  re- 
turned to  its  sources  in  showers  and  dews.  The 
mythological  conception  typifies  with  every  auxil- 
iary from  art  the  ceaseless  movement  of  the  courses 
of  nature ;  but  the  circumstances  attending  the  exe- 
cution of  the  gift  proclaim,  even  from  the  grave  to 
the  grave,  how  incapable  of  stay  or  hindrance  is  the 


6o  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

current  of  human  kindness,  and  how  surely  our  affec- 
tions and  our  purposes  survive  even  our  lives  below. 
We  passed  our  winters  in  New  Orleans,  and 
our  summers  in  New  Haven,  proceeding  from  one 
place  to  the  other  by  easy  journeys,  and  stopping 
for  rest  for  two  or  three  days,  either  in  Cincinnati 
or  Washington,  according  to  the  route  which  we 
took.  The  migrations  were  full  of  quiet  advent- 
ure which  interested  her  attentive  faculties,  and  in 
themselves  were  scarcely  more  tiresome  than  the 
annual  flight  and  return  of  the  birds.  She  reveled 
in  the  bloom  of  the  flowers  and  the  unchecked  ver- 
dure of  the  trees  and  plants  in  our  Southern  home, 
in  its  clear  mellow  skies,  in  the  airiness  of  char- 
acter and  manner  which  is  found,  not  only  in  the 
French-speaking  portion  of  the  citizens  of  New 
Orleans,  but  to  some  extent  among  all,  in  the 
amusements  which  are  well-nigh  perpetual,  in  the 
hospitalities  extended  to  famous  people  from 
abroad,  and  in  her  elegant  intercourse,  in  which 
her  amiable,  warm-hearted  nature  delighted,  with 
those  true  and  tried  New  Orleans  friends  whose 
admiration  for  her  was  shown  by  the  most  thought- 
ful, unremitting  kindness. 


Summer  Delights.  6i 

With  equal  zest  and  tenderer  emotions  did  she 
come  to  the  shade  and  coolness,  the  substantial 
thoughts,  the  delightfully  intellectual  atmosphere, 
to  the  friends  of  the  heart,  many  and  cultivated,  to 
the  drives  by  the  indented  and  picturesque  north- 
ern shore  of  the  Sound  and  out  upon  the  fragrant 
hills,  to  the  leisure  and  rest  and  miscellaneous 
reading,  to  the  old-time  Sabbath  worship,  and  to 
the  loved  guests  —  that  filled  the  bright  hours 
throughout  the  summer  days  of  our  Northern 
sojournings. 

Without  effort  and  unconsciously,  in  all  this 
varied  existence,  she  "decorated  and  cheered 
every  sphere  in  which  she  moved,  glittering  like 
the  morning  star,  full  of  life  and  joy  and  splen- 
dor." 

Who  that  participated  in  conversation  with  her 
did  not  suspend  it  with  regret  and  resume  it  with 
delight  ?  finding  therein  fullness  without  satiety, 
variety  without  repetition  or  diffuseness,  the  ut- 
terance and  perception  of  the  nicest  shades  of 
humor,  brilliancy  which  inflicted  nor  wound  nor 
sting,  all  impelled  and  guided  by  a  spirit  as  un- 
flagging as  that  of  the  most  moving  orators. 


64  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

This  purpose,  this  habit  of  mind,  it  was  that 
made  her  judgment  on  all  subjects  so  well-nigh 
unfailing,  that  made  her  so  painstaking  in  her 
inquiry,  and  so  careful  to  expunge  from  the  equa- 
tion mere  feeling.  This,  too,  was  the  secret  of 
her  patience  in  hearing  those  who  differed  from 
her,  and  of  her  independence  in  her  estimate  of 
persons  and  events  when  finally  reached ;  for  the 
censure  or  approbation  of  others  was  valuable  to 
her  only  as  it  had  solid  foundation. 

She  had  within  herself  such  resources  for  self- 
occupation  and  the  entertainment  of  others,  that 
the  days  when  we  were  separated  from  the  world 
by  travel,  or  rain,  or  sickness  were  really  the 
brightest. 

Often  when  I  would  express  some  disquiet  on 
leaving  her  in  the  morning  for  my  court  duties, 
lest  she  might  not  have  enough  to  amuse  her  for 
the  day,  would  she  reply  with  a  smile :  "I  have 
myself,  my  thoughts,  my  books,  and  my  pen ;  I 
shall  be  entertained."  It  was  not  merely  that  she 
had  abounding  information,  nor  merely  that  she 
had  it  in  her  mind  arranged  in  so  orderly  a  man- 
ner as  to  be  readily  brought  forward,  nor  merely 


Fidelity  of  Her  Nature.  65 

that  she  had  such  quick  sympathies  and  so  con- 
stant a  desire  to  make  the  time  pass  pleasantly  as 
to  make  her  explore  with  quickness  and  vigor  the 
recesses  of  her  mind  for  material  for  thought  and 
intercourse,  but  it  was  the  operation  of  all  these 
advantages,  together  with  a  spirit  of  serene  con- 
tentment such  as  the  fabled  wise  were  represented 
to  have  had,  which  was  contagious,  that  made  our 
days  of  isolation  from  our  fellows  seem  all  too  few 
and  too  short. 

Connected  with  this  trait  was  her  deep  satisfac- 
tion with  her  own,  which  she  cherished,  not  with 
the  narrow  purpose  with  which  the  miser  hoards, 
but  from  that  spirit  which  led  her  to  invest  with 
sacredness  and  dignity  her  personal  existence  and 
all  that  radiated  from  it.  Never  was  a  sweet 
thought  or  grateful  association,  once  connected 
with  an  object,  allowed  in  her  mind  to  be  dis- 
severed from  it.  When  her  well-poised  judgment 
had  selected  an  article,  or  a  friend,  she  rarely 
abandoned  her  choice.  So  far  from  the  old  and 
tried  becoming  in  her  eyes,  from  the  lapse  of  time, 
wearisome, — fit  to  be  supplanted  by  the  new, — 
the  passing  years  did  but  impart  confirmation  and 


64  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

This  purpose,  this  habit  of  mind,  it  was  that 
made  her  judgment  on  all  subjects  so  well-nigh 
unfailing,  that  made  her  so  painstaking  in  her 
inquiry,  and  so  careful  to  expunge  from  the  equa- 
tion mere  feeling.  This,  too,  was  the  secret  of 
her  patience  in  hearing  those  who  differed  from 
her,  and  of  her  independence  in  her  estimate  of 
persons  and  events  when  finally  reached ;  for  the 
censure  or  approbation  of  others  was  valuable  to 
her  only  as  it  had  solid  foundation. 

She  had  within  herself  such  resources  for  self- 
occupation  and  the  entertainment  of  others,  that 
the  days  when  we  were  separated  from  the  world 
by  travel,  or  rain,  or  sickness  were  really  the 
brightest. 

Often  when  I  would  express  some  disquiet  on 
leaving  her  in  the  morning  for  my  court  duties, 
lest  she  might  not  have  enough  to  amuse  her  for 
the  day,  would  she  reply  with  a  smile :  "I  have 
myself,  my  thoughts,  my  books,  and  my  pen ;  I 
shall  be  entertained."  It  was  not  merely  that  she 
had  abounding  information,  nor  merely  that  she 
had  it  in  her  mind  arranged  in  so  orderly  a  man- 
ner as  to  be  readily  brought  forward,  nor  merely 


Fidelity  of  Her  Nature.  65 

that  she  had  such  quick  sympathies  and  so  con- 
stant a  desire  to  make  the  time  pass  pleasantly  as 
to  make  her  explore  with  quickness  and  vigor  the 
recesses  of  her  mind  for  material  for  thought  and 
intercourse,  but  it  was  the  operation  of  all  these 
advantages,  together  with  a  spirit  of  serene  con- 
tentment such  as  the  fabled  wise  were  represented 
to  have  had,  which  was  contagious,  that  made  our 
days  of  isolation  from  our  fellows  seem  all  too  few 
and  too  short. 

Connected  with  this  trait  was  her  deep  satisfac- 
tion with  her  own,  which  she  cherished,  not  with 
the  narrow  purpose  with  which  the  miser  hoards, 
but  from  that  spirit  which  led  her  to  invest  with 
sacredness  and  dignity  her  personal  existence  and 
all  that  radiated  from  it.  Never  was  a  sweet 
thought  or  grateful  association,  once  connected 
with  an  object,  allowed  in  her  mind  to  be  dis- 
severed from  it.  When  her  well-poised  judgment 
had  selected  an  article,  or  a  friend,  she  rarely 
abandoned  her  choice.  So  far  from  the  old  and 
tried  becoming  in  her  eyes,  from  the  lapse  of  time, 
wearisome, — fit  to  be  supplanted  by  the  new, — 
the  passing  years  did  but  impart  confirmation  and 


66  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

veneration  to  her  preferences.  Her  memory  was 
like  a  land  abounding  in  altars  which  had  been 
erected  to,  and  were  guarded  for,  those  who  had 
made  her  happy. 

Her  appreciation  of  kindness  was  new  every 
morning  and  fresh  every  evening ;  was  so  natural, 
ingenuous,  and  varied,  so  from  a  child-like  heart, 
that  one  forgot  the  possibility  of  weariness  from 
any  contributory  effort,  in  the  pleasure  of  witness- 
ing her  responsive  delight  in  its  reception. 

How  shall  I  express  in  fit  words  the  fidelity 
of  her  nature  —  her  unswerving  adherence  to  a 
character  or  an  act  which  she  knew  to  deserve 
approbation  ?  She  admired  and  loved  cautiously, 
and  with  keenest  discrimination,  but,  when  once 
her  heart  had  been  carried,  nothing  but  discov- 
ered falsity  could  diminish  her  esteem  or  chill  her 
affection.  How  cheerfully  she  endured,  or  rather 
how  she  gloried  in,  sacrifice  for  whom  she  loved  ! 
How  bravely  she  stood  up  for  the  absent  or  the 
dead  whom  she  had  known  favorably  from  history 
or  in  life,  if  their  motives  were  called  in  question  ! 
In  her  deep  nature,  love  and  admiration  seemed  to 
be  spontaneous,  emotional,  and  enthusiastic,  but 


Her  Open- handedness.  6^ 

seemed  at  the  same  time  to  have  the  uniformity, 
the  fixedness,  the  unfailing  certainty  that  belong 
to  principles  and  convictions.  With  her,  misfort- 
une heightened  excellence,  and  inability,  on  the 
part  of  the  worthy,  to  repay  kindness,  moved  her 
to  redouble  it.  Her  generosity  was  princely.  In 
the  selection  of  her  objects  of  sympathy  she  so  in- 
fallibly sifted  the  chaff  from  the  wheat,  her  char- 
ity was  measured  by  such  judgment,  and  was 
administered  with  such  infinite  tact  and  such  total 
absence  of  ostentation,  that  the  world  knew  little 
of  it.  Her  whole  nature  delighted  in  a  generous 
act,  and  shrank  from,  and  almost  scorned,  any  out- 
side echo  from  it,  as  if  the  renown  from  unselfish 
conduct  marred  its  beauty.  Her  gifts  were  secret, 
unobserved  of  men,  save  by  their  recipients,  falling 
"  mutely,  like  the  dew  upon  the  hills."  But  they 
were  incessant,  inducing,  of  course,  provision 
through  more  or  less  self-denial  or  the  regulation 
of  expenditures,  and  rendered  doubly  useful  by  her 
wise  and  timely  bestowal.  Whether,  in  obedience 
to  the  dictates  of  her  sense  of  duty,  and  in  spite  of 
the  remonstrances  of  almost  all  her  friends,  by  a 
single  conveyance  she  irrevocably  granted  well- 
9 


,N^ 


68  Emily  Sanford  Billings, 

nigh  half  of  her  individual  estate;  or  whether,  with 
almost  filial  love,  she  for  years  clothed  some  once 
affluent,  always  and  universally  respected  lady 
whom  poverty  and  affliction  had  flung  far  from 
her  elevated  place  in  society,  and  reduced  to 
almost  want,  sharing  her  sorrows,  supplying  her 
every  need  with  such  alacrity  and  enjoyment  that 
the  blessing  of  the  giver  was,  by  both,  felt  to  be 
even  greater  than  that  of  the  receiver  ;  whatever 
she  day  by  day  did,  in  her  original,  beneficent 
way  of  doing  for  others,  was  done  not  from  a  rap- 
idly expended  impulse  to  please  by  a  donation, 
but  from  the  deep-rooted  purpose  to  do  good,  to 
do  a  loving  and  kind  act,  to  heal  some  wound,  to 
assuage  some  sorrow.  It  was  literal  magnanimity, 
the  expansion,  the  reaching  forth  of  a  great  soul 
towards  others,  because  it  was  its  nature  to  act  in 
a  manner  truly  great. 

The  readiness  with  which  she  entered  into  all 
the  favorable  circumstances  of  life  in  New  Or- 
leans, the  delightful  constancy  with  which  she 
dwelt  upon  them,  as  well  as  the  power  with  which 
she  could  depict  them,  is  strikingly  shown  in  a 
letter  to  a  very  dear  friend,  dated  there  in  1880, 


Her  Tender  Fondness  for  Home.  69 

She  says :  "I  have  tried  St.  Augustine,  Jackson- 
ville, and  the  other  Florida  resorts,  and  abominate 
them  all.  They  narrow  life  down  to  the  very 
necessities  of  existence,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
an  invalid  requires  to  be  tempted  with  the  luxuries 
of  life,  and  to  be  diverted  from  thoughts  of  pain 
and  despondency  by  the  sight  of,  if  not  the  par- 
ticipation in,  amusements.  In  New  Orleans  it  is 
possible  to  command  every  luxury  which  every 
climate  yields,  and  impossible  to  avoid  amusement 
if  one  took  no  trouble  to  procure  it.  Then,  there 
is  so  much  beauty  in  the  floral  surroundings,  and 
so  much  to  be  learned  of  the  peculiarities  of  the 
people  from  their  out-of-door  life,  that  one  cannot 
fail  to  be  entertained.  There  is  so  much  of  the 
French  element  here  that  the  streets  are  always 
gay,  and  the  predominance  of  the  Catholic  religion 
gives  one  always  one  festival  or  another  to  cele- 
brate." 

What  a  shrine  to  her,  what  a  repository  of  as- 
sociations in  which  were  blended  a  child's  sus- 
ceptibility and  woman's  deepest  feelings,  was  the 
old  home  in  New  Haven,  where  she  was  born  and 
where  her  youth  was  nurtured,  where  her  parents 


JO  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

had  lived  half  a  century,  and  from  which  the  dead 
of  her  family,  whom  she  so  loved,  had  been  borne, 
appears  in  a  letter  to  the  same  dear  friend.  She 
says:  "It  hardly  seems  possible  that  in  little 
more  than  a  month  I  shall  again  see  the  dear  old 
home  and  the  familiar  faces,  but  when  I  think  of  it 
my  heart  bounds.  Whenever  I  am  sick  else- 
where, it  seems  to  me  that  if  I  were  within  those 
sacred  walls  within  which  I  was  born,  and  under 
those  grand  old  elms,  I  should  find  an  electric 
light  that  would  have  some  healing  power,  and 
that  even,  if  still  suffering,  I  should  in  spirit  be 
watched  over  and  soothed  by  those  who  used  to 
nurse  me  back  to  health  in  those  delightful,  long- 
ago  years." 

"  With  what  measure  ye  mete,  it  shall  be  meas- 
ured to  you  again,"  is  a  truth  especially  manifest 
in  the  known  approach  of  death,  and  in  death 
itself,  when  all  that  is  responsive  to  departing 
excellence  speaks  out.  As  intelligence  of  her  cul- 
minating illness  and  critical  danger  went  abroad 
to  her  friends,  the  sympathy  and  sorrow  that 
poured  in  through  numerous  letters  from  gifted 
souls,  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 


Her  Sweetness  of  Disposition.  7 1 

land,  and  from  England  and  Germany  and  Spain, 
showed  the  fidelity  of  a  nature  that  could  evoke 
such  evidence  of  wide-spread,  unslumbering  af- 
fection. It  were  worth  the  longest  life  to  close  it 
as  the  center  of  such  love,  such  honor,  such  grate- 
ful emotion  as  came  to  her  during  her  last  days 
and  has  come  to  me  since  her  death,  from  such  a 
number  of  great  and  pure  souls  in  spontaneous 
and  tender  attestation  of  her  worth.  It  was  a 
demonstration  of  the  possible  pathos  in  human 
character,  and  of  the  reward  and  renown  which 
wait  on  intellect  swayed  by  goodness.  The 
fidelity  in  her  which  inspired  it  was  life-long,  was 
so  identified  with  her,  was  so  inflexible,  that,  with 
those  who  knew  her  intimately,  to  name  her  was 
to  say  "faithfulness  to  the  right,  to  the  convic- 
tion of  duty,  and  to  the  instincts  of  changeless 
affection." 

The  transcendently  endearing  quality  of  her 
disposition,  which  was  in  her  character  what 
Raphael's  ineffable  expression  of  face  is  in  his 
Madonnas,  was  its  sweetness.  Without  any  of 
the  monotony  of  mere  amiability,  without  warp- 
ing her  clear  and  upright  judgment,  ever  attend- 


72  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

ant  upon  the  buoyant  spirit  and  brilliancy  of  her 
mind,  was  the  warmth  and  glow  of  a  nature 
necessarily,  "without  shadow  of  turning,"  truly, 
deeply  kind,  that  nestled  in  and  clung  to  all  that 
was  benign  in  life.  This  it  was  that  made  her  so 
gentle  to  the  aged  and  to  the  sorrowing;  so  fond 
of  home ;  so  tenacious  of  the  memories  of  child- 
hood ;  so  appreciative  of  truth  and  refinement  ; 
that  gave  her  such  quick  discernment  of  upright- 
ness and  independence  and  of  culture,  such  ad- 
miration for  friendship,  such  communion  with 
nature,  and  such  reverence  for  the  dead.  As  the 
rose,  by  the  law  of  its  development,  must,  along 
with  its  brightness  of  colors,  produce  its  exhalation 
of  odor,  so  it  was  a  law  of  her  spiritual  being 
that,  along  with  all  her  bright  thoughts,  should 
come  a  whispered  suggestion  of  what  is  gentle 
and  benign  and  gracious  and  morally  beautiful 
in  existence. 

There  is  imperfection,  in  any  transfer  to  can- 
vas, of  beauty  of  feature  and  expression  in  the 
natural  countenance,  and  the  inability  increases 
with  the  rise  in  the  degree  or  order  of  the  beauty 
sought  to  be  reproduced.     How  much  more  of 


Pictures^  Imperfect  Translations.  'J2> 

difficulty  in  the  embodiment  in  adequate  descrip- 
tion of  the  peculiarities  and  inspiring  purposes 
of  noble  character !  How  much  of  the  loftiness 
of  her  resolves,  of  her  unselfish  devotion  to  the 
pure  and  the  good,  eludes  the  power  of  expres- 
sion, "in  matter-molded  forms  of  speech,"  and 
how  much  of  the  reverence  which  we  felt  in 
witnessing  her  life  remains  wanting,  as  we  con- 
template its  delineation,  though  affection  contin- 
ually prompted  the  memory  and  lingers  in  every 
constituent  word  ! 

How  truly  has  Lord  Bacon  said,  "  That  is  the 
best  part  of  beauty  which  a  picture  does  not  (fully) 
give." 

"What  practice,  howsoe'er  expert, 
In  fitting  aptest  words  to  things, 
Or  voice,  the  richest-toned  that  sings, 
Hath  power  to  give  thee  as  thou  wert ! " 


f4  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 


IX 

Her  Last  Sickness. 

ON  the  6th  day  of  February,  1885,  in  New 
Orleans,  the  clouds  began  to  gather  in  our 
clear  and  soft  sky  never  to  be  dispersed.  Then 
suddenly  commenced  an  illness  that  baffled  all 
medical  skill  aided  by  all  the  ministrations  of 
affection.  For  I  can  now  see  that  from  that  day 
she  constantly,  gradually,  declined  in  strength. 
When  relief  was  not  afforded,  her  physician  from 
New  Haven  was  summoned,  whose  presence  had 
ever  been  to  us  both,  not  only  that  of  one  highly 
skilled  in  his  art,  but  also  that  of  a  beloved  brother. 
With  his  cooperation,  the  surgeon  in  attendance 
was  enabled  to  overcome  the  immediate  cause  of 
danger.  Her  dear  friend,  who  had  been  her 
teacher,  gladly  came  also.  The  sweet  sufferer,  as 
well  as  I  myself,  hoped  and  believed  she  was  pro- 
gressing toward  recovery. 

On  the  25th  of  April,  I  accompanied  her  and 
this  friend  to  Washington,  where  I  left  them  for 
an  anticipated  sojourn  of  three  or  four  weeks,  and 


Shadows.  75 

a  subsequent  progress  to  the  old  home  in  New 
Haven,  there  to  await  my  coming.  I  returned  to 
my  duties  in  New  Orleans.  But  on  the  twelfth 
day  of  my  separation  from  her,  there  came  evidence 
that  alarmed  me ;  it  was  an  unfinished  letter 
from  her  to  me.  So  delicately  thoughtful  and  so 
resolutely  active  had  she  ever  been  to  forestall 
and  allay  apprehension  about  her,  on  my  part,  that 
full  well  I  knew  her  illness  must  be  indeed  pros- 
trating. Through  the  great  kindness  of  Justice 
Woods,  who  was  then  at  my  house  in  New 
Orleans,  and  of  Judge  Pardee,  a  brother  judge 
was  assigned  to  sit  in  my  place,  and  I  immediately 
hurried  on  to  rejoin  her  in  Washington.  Dr. 
Huntington,  of  the  U.  S.  Army,  a  prized  friend  of 
college  days,  in  whose  medical  care  I  had  there 
left  her,  accompanied  us  to  New  Haven.  We  were 
all  buoyant  with  the  hope  that  her  reinstatement 
in  the  atmosphere  and  amid  the  surroundings  that 
had  always  proved  so  genial  and  restorative,  and 
under  the  medical  skill  that  had  so  often  brought 
relief,  would  reestablish  health. 

Except  for  the  intrusion  of  an  occasional  anxious 
thought,  which  we  banished  as  unfounded,  the  days 
from  May  to  August  were  the  most  supremely 

lO 


76  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

happy  of  all  our  many  blissful  days.  With  the 
exception  of  the  servants,  we  were  for  the  most 
part  alone.  The  weather  was  unusually  temperate. 
We  passed  from  morning  till  night  in  reading 
aloud  together  the  sacred  and  classic  writers,  and 
in  the  nameless  diversions  of  comfortable  illness, 
in  a  home  which,  through  her  ingenuity  and  taste, 
was  supplied  with  all  that  could  be  desired  by  the 
fastidious  in  health  or  by  the  delicate  in  sickness. 
She  filled  our  joint  life  with  the  light  of  her 
cheerfulness.  She  gave  playful  names  to  the 
medicines  and  the  wraps  for  the  sick-room  which 
moved  us  to  laughter,  as  day  after  day  we  repeated 
them.  Feeble  as  she  was,  she  was  unwearied  in 
her  inventive  sportiveness.  She  strove  in  every 
way  to  beguile  me  from  anxiety  and  to  dispossess 
me  of  fear.  How  little  did  I  dream  throughout  these 
halcyon  days  that  so  near  us  "sat  that  shadow 
feared  of  man," 

"  Who  broke  our  fair  companionship. 

Who  bore  thee  where  I  could  not  see, 
Nor  follow,  though  I  walk  in  haste. 
And  think  that  somewhere  in  the  waste 
That  shadow  sits  and  waits  for  me." 


Her  Calmness  and  Courage.  yj 

In  August,  both  her  physician  and  we  our- 
selves were  convinced  that  relief  could  come  from 
surgery  alone.  She  then  determined  to  avail  her- 
self of  surgical  skill  of  the  highest  order  and 
where  its  efficacy  could  be  most  certainly  counted 
upon.  From  this  point  of  time  she  manifested  a 
placidity,  a  calmness,  always  unruffled.  This 
outward  aspect  was  the  result,  in  part,  of  her  un- 
willingness to  add  to  my  distress,  which  seemed 
to  weigh  more  with  her  than  the  danger  threat- 
ening her  life ;  partly  of  the  serious  wisdom  with 
which  she  met  all  life's  experiences  ;  largely  of  in- 
born vigor  of  courage,  that  did  but  assert  and 
re-assert  itself  and  increase  and  rise  in  its  might, 
as  came,  like  the  billows  of  a  dark  sea,  the  terrible 
demands  upon  it;  and  most  of  all,  of  that  high 
and  holy  habit  of  communion  with  her  Heavenly 
Father,  which  eliminated  all  terror  from  events 
since  they  proceeded  from  Him. 

I  had  learned  how  tender  she  was  of  the  feel- 
ings of  loved  ones,  how  much  "she  could  suppress 
of  fainting  nature's  feebleness,"  how  she  could 
hide  all  traces  of  suffering  with  a  smile,  even  when 
she  was  racked  with  internal  torture.     I  had  seen 


.  78  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

too,  and  that  often,  how  her  nature  with  its  fawn- 
like timidity  in  the  midst  of  the  ways  of  safety, 
when  critical  dangers  confronted,  took  on  calm- 
ness and  courage ;  but  I  was  unprepared  for  the 
disclosures  of  the  very  wisdom  of  composure  and 
the  almost  hardihood  of  bravery  which  she  mani- 
fested from  this  time  down  to  the  hour  of  her 
death.  When  the  two  ordeals  of  suffering  through 
surgery  came,  after  saying  the  prayer  of  Stephen 
this  gentle  being  took  leave  of  me  to  face  her  pain 
and  danger  with  a  tranquillity  of  look  and  voice 
and  manner,  and  of  her  whole  being,  as  absolutely 
undisturbed  as  though  she  had  been  about  to  enter 
a  friend's  parlor  or  a  place  of  amusement.  She 
was  sustained  by  more  than  native  courage,  fath- 
omless as  that  quality  seemed  to  be  in  her  bosom ; 
she  was  also  upborne  and  rendered  so  delightfully 
composed  by  the  Christian's  faith. 

In  September,  we  went  to  New  York  by  the 
easiest  possible  contrivances.  Without  a  murmur 
or  an  uttered  regret,  she  left  her  home,  so  redo- 
lent of  tender  associations.  With  a  spirit  which 
had  the  elasticity  of  the  air  itself  she  went  through 
all  her  succeeding  trials, —  so  manifold  and   ex- 


Conscious  Approach  of  Death.  79 

hausting, —  which  to  one  constituted  with  her 
exquisite  delicacy  and  sensitiveness  must  have 
brought  such  keen  pangs. 

For  six  weeks  we  were  like  little  children  in 
our  joy,  buoyant  in  the  belief  that  a  cure  had  been 
attained.  The  seventh  week  shook  our  confidence. 
Misgivings  were  more  frequent,  and  were  harder 
to  be  cast  out.  So  steadfastly  does  absorbing 
affection  cling  to  what  constitutes  all  that  is  dear 
and  precious  in  existence,  and  refuse  to  perceive 
inevitable  danger  slowly  creeping  on  towards  it, 
that  it  was  not  until  the  last  fortnight  of  her  life, 
that  she  and  I  realized  that  our  two  beings,  which, 
like  the  fibers  of  the  wood  and  bark  in  the  living 
tree,  had  closed  and  adhered  and  coalesced, — 
had  grown  into  one, —  were  to  be  cleft  in  twain, 
to  be  rent  asunder ;  that  the  path  of  one  of  us  was 
to  be  "  in  fields  we  knew,"  and  of  one  "  in  undis- 
covered lands."  O  tender  human  hearts  all  over 
the  world  !  How  would  you  add  to  your  mutually 
bestowed  love,  even  where  it  is  given  in  most 
generous  largess ;  how  would  you  quicken  and 
multiply  its  swiftest  and  most  numerous  ministra- 
tions  and   soften   its   gentlest   utterances ;    how 


8o  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

would  you  transfer  kindness  from  the  sphere  of 
thought  and  intention  to  that  of  life  and  act,  if, 
beforehand,  ye  could  but  half  know  the  broken- 
heartedness,  the  suddenness  and  bitterness  of  the 
woe  of  impending  and  accomplished  separation, 
which  is  by  survivors  called  Death  !  If  ye  could 
even  dimly  foresee  how,  though  God  and  duty  and 
hope  of  Heaven  graciously  abide,  upon  the  sever- 
ance of  lives  truly  companioned,  to  the  soul  left  on 
the  earth  there  come  no  more  the  thrill  and  ecstasy 
of  newly  unfolding  being,  but  rather,  amid  the 
veiled  and  processional  events  of  each  to-day, 
there  lingers  and  stirs  the  commemoration  of  a 
receptive  and  responsive  yesterday,  and  in  spite 
of  prayer  and  faith  existence  comes  to  be  an 
almost  unbroken  sacrament ! 

Throughout  her  illness,  growing  broader, 
deeper,  vastly  enriched  towards  the  close,  was  the 
development  of  her  character  as  a  Christian.  All 
through  our  married  life  she  abhorred  cant,  and 
sensitively  shrank  from  often  speaking  fully,  even 
to  me,  of  her  religious  experiences.  While  her 
religious  feelings  were  intense,  she  seemed  to 
view   them    as   too    sacred    to   be   exhibited   to 


Her  Religion,  Life  not   Words.  8i 

others  in  set  phrases.  But  they  were  disclosed 
with  no  less  certainty  and  earnestness,  and  with 
more  striking  influence  upon  others,  because  ut- 
tered only  by  well-understood  reference,  or  most 
frequently  expressed  in  some  act  which  showed 
triumph  over,  or  abnegation  of,  personal  comfort  or 
preference.  To  her  mind  Religion  was  life — not 
so  much  a  conception  as  an  embodiment ;  was 
to  be  apprehended  and  taught  and  striven  for,  not 
in  any  formula  of  words,  nor  indeed  in  single  acts, 
but  in  the  acquisition  and  observance  of  habits 
which  were  founded  on  trust  in  God,  a  dwelling 
with  Christ,  consideration  of  others  and  forgetful- 
ness  of  self;  of  faith,  of  sacrifices  for  faith,  of 
punctuality,  neatness,  industry,  fidelity,  truth, 
kindness,  charity,  and  in  painstaking  in  practicing 
every  virtue  that  went  to  make  up  holy  living ;  to 
her  mind  it  was  something  which,  viewed  as  an 
attainment  or  an  example,  was  to  be  not  spoken  or 
read,  but  lived.  Those  who  knew  her  best  have 
rarely  known,  in  life  or  biography,  a  human 
character  whose  every  affiliation  was  so  with  what 
was  holy ;  whose  every  withdrawal  was  so  from 
what  was  sullied,  or  which  could  more  worthily  or 


82  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

signally  have  share  in  the  beatitude,  "Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God." 
"  O  ye  lilies  and  other  white  harbingers  of  spring, 
the  grace  of  the  fashion  whereof  is  so  often 
and  so  exquisitely  culled  by  art  to  be  symbols 
of  unspotted  purity,  what  can  ye  show  of  silent 
flowering  in  the  white  freedom  from  all  that  as- 
soils,  which  noble  woman  cannot  much  better 
show  herself  ? " 

Ever  had  she  loved  prayer.  It  was  always  our 
habit,  after  we  had  retired  to  our  chamber,  to  close 
the  day  with  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  little  "  Now 
we  lay  us  down  to  sleep,"  which  the  dear  lips  of 
our  mothers  had  respectively  taught  us,  followed 
by  an  oral,  spontaneous  prayer,  which  was  a  little 
mirror  wherein  was  reflected  and  held  up  to  Him 
who  seeth  in  secret  the  image  of  our  souls'  in- 
most, highest  daily  needs  and  yearnings.  After 
the  commencement  of  her  sickness  in  February, 
she  seemed  to  delight  more  and  more  in  our  joint 
evening  outpourings.  She  seemed  to  look  back- 
wards and  forwards  to  them  with  a  satisfaction 
which  showed  they  had  for  her  sustaining  power. 
During  the  early  summer,  while  speaking  to  that 


Ouireachings   Towards  Heaven.  83 

loved  friend,  to  whom  she  wrote  the  longing 
letter  about  New  Haven,  of  the  blessings  which 
during  her  illness  had  been  vouchsafed  to  her, 
she  remarked,  ^' and  now  Faith  has  come.^^  In 
New  Orleans,  in  New  Haven,  and  in  New-York, 
she  was  eager  to  hear  the  Scriptures  read.  With 
especial  fondness  did  she  love  to  linger  on  those 
portions  which  gave  the  words  of  Jesus — most 
of  all  His  sayings  as  rendered  in  the  mellifluous 
accents  of  St.  John.  All  summer,  after  the  Bible, 
the  book  which  was  her  favorite  was  Canon 
Farrar's  "  Life  of  Christ." 

During  a  portion  of  her  last  two  weeks  on  earth 
there  was  with  us  that  friend,  bound  to  her  by  the 
double  tie  of  early  instruction  and  long  and  unre- 
servedly enjoyed  intimacy,  whose  prayerful  minis- 
trations were  so  touchingly  appreciated  by  the  then 
consciously  dying,  uncomplaining  sufferer.  That 
friend  thus  relates  what  she  said  : 

*•  *  I  have  learned  to  meet  each  day  with  its  bur- 
den of  suffering,  as  it  comes,  one  day  at  a  time, 
trusting  in  the  Lord.'  In  a  time  of  critical  decis- 
ion a  friend  repeated  the  passage,  '  Commit  thy 
way  unto  the  Lord  —  and  He  .shall  bring  it  to 
II 


84  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

pass.'  Quick  as  thought,  she  said:  '  You  have 
omitted  the  best  part,  "trust  also  in  Him," '  and 
then  repeated  the  whole  correctly." 

The  same  friend  adds  : 

"  The  special  requests  to  be  made  in  the  brief 
prayers  of  the  sick-room  evinced  a  faith  that  was 
childlike  and  inspiring.  What  she  needed  most 
was  to  be  asked  for  as  tho'  it  would  be  given." 
One  instance  of  this  kind  will  live  in  the  hearts  of 
survivors  :  after  a  weary,  sleepless  night,  followed 
by  a  morning  of  utter  restlessness,  she  called  for 
a  prayer:  "Pray  for  sleep  now"  Her  voiced 
'*  Amen  "  was  followed  quickly  by  folded  hands, 
closed  eyes,  and  peaceful  slumber.  At  intervals, 
the  eyes  opened,  and  those  who  saw  her  will  not 
soon  forget  the  grateful,  peaceful  smile,  followed 
again  and  again  by  quiet  sleep.  The  next  day 
she  had  "something  to  say  "  when  alone  with  her 
friend,  who  shared  her  secret ;  it  was  her  wish  to 
testify  thus : 

"  Never,  in  all  my  life,  have  I  known  so  wonder- 
ful an  answer  to  prayer;  the  sleep  came  so  quickly," 
she  said  with  emphasis,  "  it  made  God  seem  near, 
not  far," 


Putting  Aside  the  Earth.  85 

Several  days  before  her  death,  she  seemed  to 
physicians,  to  friends,  and  to  herself  to  be  dying. 
With  serenely  composed  fidelity  of  affection  and 
with  unfaltering  trust,  she  took  leave  of  friends 
and  of  him  who  was  in  death,  as  he  had  been  in 
life,  her  other  self. 

With  pious  gratitude,  with  resignation  so  sweet- 
ly and  purely  unselfish  that  it  was  a  literal  renun- 
ciation of  self,  she  culled,  as  from  a  garden,  from 
our  happy  life,  a  bouquet  of  blissful  memories,  and 
handed  it  to  me  with  the  glory  of  that  which  is  to 
be  in  her  voice  and  look  and  manner.  Then,  with 
the  supreme  and  shining  care  with  which  she  had 
crowned  my  life,  lovingly  and  with  the  exultation 
of  saints  when  close  to  Heaven,  she  commended 
to  me,  as  "  the  one  thing  in  life,  preparation  to 
meet  God."  When  (my  one  great  hope  of  her 
recovery  —  so  hard  to  be  lost  —  all  gone)  my 
agony  could  be  neither  repressed  nor  hidden,  she 
said  to  me  very  gently,  but  with  the  pathos  and 
faith  of  one  who  saw  the  realities  of  Heaven, 
not  the  vanishing  scenes  of  Earth,  and  with  a 
thorough  subordination  of  supremest  human  love 
to   a  love   for   the   Saviour  ever  transcendent : 


86  Emily  Sanford  Billings, 

"  My  darling,  my  Saviour  calls  me,  you  must 
let  me  go  to  Him." 

From  this  time  to  that  of  the  deep  sleep  which 
by  eight  hours  preceded  death,  she  seemed  filled 
throughout  her  whole  being  —  permeated  —  with 
a  peace  which  was  the  overshadowing  power  of 
the  Spirit  world,  which  illumined  her  countenance, 
gave  it  a  radiance  like  that  of  the  face  of  Moses 
when  he  descended  from  the  mount  after  a  direct 
and  visible  communion  with  God. 

It  was  a  transfiguration — a  borrowing  from  a 
swiftly  coming  beatification — the  rays  of  a  dawn- 
ing day,  •*  whose  waking  was  to  be  supremely 
blest."  Her  face,  like  that  of  the  first  martyr, 
**  was  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel."  Like 
him,  too,  she  said  :  "  Lord  Jesus,  into  Thy  hands 
I  commit  my  spirit."  She  had  been  permitted  to 
look  across  the  dark  waters,  into  which  she  was 
entering,  upon  the  glories  of  Heaven  with  a  near- 
ness of  vision  which  caused  them  to  be  not  only 
revealed  by  dying  words,  but  also  reflected  from 
dying  features. 

Thus,  on  January  3d,  the  first  Sabbath  of  the 
year,  amid  the  hush  which  precedes  the  dawn,  with 


"As  it  had  been  the  Face  of  an  Angela   87 

expiring  breath,  even  "  from  the  twilight  of  eternal 
day,"  still  whispering  —  half  from  Earth,  half 
from  Heaven  —  to  a  low-bent,  unweariedly  and 
fondly  attentive  ear  a  final  attestation  of  her  love, 
went  forth  she,  the  delicately  fashioned,  sensitively 
shrinking  one,  with  the  boldness  of  the  long-tried 
warrior,  and  the  trust  of  the  martyr,  into  the  mys- 
tery of  death  and  to  the  circle  of  waiting,  glorified 
ones. 

It  was  not  merely  that  this  beloved  one  was  in 
all  this 

"  So  calm  and  meek, 
So  softly  worn,  so  sweetly  weak, 
So  tearless,  yet  so  tender  —  kind." 

It  was  not  merely  that  with  the  shortness  of 
breath  came  those  gleaming  flashes  of  thought 
and  those  deep,  quickly  uttered  impassioned  words 
of  affection,  like  the  rich  staccato  notes  in  music, 
that  will  be  remembered  so  fondly  in  connection 
with  her  death. 

But  her  patient  endurance  of  protracted  illness 
and  excruciating  pains — the  fortitude,  the  heroism 
with  which  she  underwent  danger — her  suffering 


88  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

the  pangs  of  many  martyrdoms  with  naught  but 
smiles — the  sweetness  with  which  she  forgot  her- 
self in  remembering,  even  in  her  agony,  those  she 
loved — the  composure  and  resignation  at  the  con- 
scious approach  of  death — her  faith  in  her 
Saviour  and  her  undimmed  hope  of  immortality  ; 
these  sublime  manifestations  touched  and  melted 
even  the  hearts  of  strangers,  and  made  the  naked 
walls  of  the  room  in  the  Sanitarium  where  she 
died  to  glow  with  an  effulgent  light  that  would 
have  rendered  the  colors  of  all  Earth's  artists  pale 
and  ineffective.  Sorrowing,  desolated  hearts,  in  the 
midst  of  their  anguish,  felt  the  throb  of  admiration 
up  to  that  time  unknown,  that  human  nature  could 
be  so  grandly  and  richly  endowed,  and  in  its  final  ex- 
tremity, by  its  absorbing  and  trustful  devotion  to 
what  is  holy,  could  so  subdue  and  command.  Her 
life,  from  beginning  to  end,  was  one  piece  of  rav- 
ishing music,  ever  varying,  ever  delighting,  rich 
in  its  contrasts,  sweet  in  its  harmonies,  interpreted 
and  enjoyed  most  by  those  most  pure,  most  unsel- 
fish, most  loving,  but  melting,  swaying,  enthralling 
all  whose  ears  caught  its  deep  and  high  diapasons, 
gathering  fullness  of  note  as  character  became 


V 


^*  For  so  He  giveth  His  Beloved  Sleeps    89 

grander,  and,  as  she  grew  into  the  full  proportions 
of  her  magnificent  womanhood,  swelling  out  into 
loftier  strains  made  up  of  more  ample  chords,  and, 
toward  the  close,  mellowing  and  becoming  more 
and  more  sweet,  finally  falling  in  softest,  receding 
cadences  beyond  Earth's  silence  among  Heaven's 
choral  symphonies. 

Our  loved  one's  funeral  was  from  that  dear  old 
house  in  Temple  street,  which  was  the  home  of 
her  childhood  and  the  shrine  of  her  maturer  years. 
The  Rev.  Burdett  Hart  spoke  touchingly  in  fitting 
words  of  faithful  narrative,  which  could  not  but  be 
those  of  high  and  tender  eulogy.  There  was  the 
reading  of  the  sweetest  of  Mrs.  Browning's  soul's 
outpourings,  her  rendering  of  the  Psalmist's  *'  He 
giveth  His  beloved  sleep,"  which  had  been  so  often 
read  to  and  by  her,  and  which  was  so  dear  to  her. 
The  hymn,  "Asleep  in  Jesus,"  so  precious  to  her, 
was  sung  to  a  tune  associated  by  us  with  youthful 
days,  preparatory  for  life — a  tune  composed  for 
the  sweetest  of  Moore's  rhythmical  compositions. 
Prayer  was  oftered  by  President  Porter,  who  had 
united  us  in  marriage.  Then  forth  from  the  house 
where  had  been  so  zealously  and  piously  gathered 


90  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

and  preserved  the  memorials  of  childhood  and  of 
dear  ones,  living  and  departed,  and  which  was  so 
filled  with  the  traces  of  her  taste  and  culture,  we 
bore  that  loved  form  beneath  the  Gothic  arches, 
bereft  of  their  verdure,  and  gently  laid  it  in  the 
tomb  where  slumbers  the  dust  of  her  kindred, 
loved  by  her  with  such  devotion ;  and,  with  a 
weight  of  sorrow  that  made  our  limbs  totter  like 
those  of  infancy  and  extreme  old  age,  we  turned 
to  strive  to  face  the  duties  of  life,  from  which  had 
gone  the  presence  whose  brightness  and  sweet- 
ness and  inspiration  will  be  missed  and  longed  for 
with  the  pang  of  unsatisfied  hunger  and  thirst, 
till  we,  ourselves,  go  down  to  the  slumber  of 
silence  and  to  the  awakening  and  to  the  reunion 
beyond. 

And  so,  O  Holy  One,  kneeling  beside  a  hearth 
whose  fire  Thou  hast  put  out,  we  lift  weary  hands 
to  Thee  and  we  pray :  Thou  who,  though  Thou 
wast  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  and  though 
Thine  eyes  had  gazed  upon  the  fullness  of  im- 
mortality before  the  world  was,  nevertheless  didst 
from  those  eyes  shed  tears  at  the  grave  of  mortal 
friend,  and  thereby  didst  forever  honor  and  hal- 


^^Out  of  the  Depths  unto  Thee,   O  Lord''    91 

low  grief  for  the  loved  and  loving  dead ;  be  Thou 
pitiful  to  us,  whose  grief,  though  it  fills  the  height 
and  length  and  breadth  and  depth  of  our  whole 
being,  is  not  greater  than  the  measure  of  the  love- 
liness of  our  dead.  We  hear  Thy  voice  yet  being 
borne  down  the  ages,  from  that  upper  chamber, 
in  accents  still  tremulous  with  tender  solicitude 
for  Thy  loved  ones,  about  to  be  desolated  by 
Thine  own  death,  saying:  "I  will  not  leave  you 
comfortless,"  and  "  I  pray  for  those  also,  who,  in 
all  coming  time,  shall  believe  on  My  name." 
Redeem  this  Thy  promise  to  us  as  we  quiver  and 
writhe  under  the  chariot  wheels  of  Thy  chastening 
Providence,  and  strive,  through  thick  and  fast  fall- 
ing tears,  to  see  not  wrath,  but  love. 

Enable  us  to  say,  not  as  ending  a  vain  struggle, 
but  with  the  sweet  spirit  of  obedient  children, 
"Thy  will  be  done."  Thou  who  hast  taught  us 
the  capacity  of  the  soul  for  suffering,  by  taking 
her  who  was  the  grace  and  joy  of  life,  fill  the  ex- 
tended void  with  the  power  of  the  Saviour's  Pres- 
ence and  with  the  peace  given  by  Him.  We 
thank  Thee  for  the  measureless  blessings  of  the 
companionship  and  love  of  one  possessing  such  an 
12 


92  Emily  Sanford  Billings. 

assemblage  of  exalted  qualities  and  for  the  sacred 
hope  of  reunion  with  her ;  may  our  grief  not  ex- 
pend itself  in  selfish  repinings,  but  rather  find 
expression  in  the  imitation,  to  the  extent  of  our 
ability,  of  her  shining  virtues.  May  the  influence 
from  her  unfaltering  allegiance  to  the  right, 
blended  with  that  of  her  tenderest  love  for  us, 
continually  beat  in  our  lives  like  pulses  in  our 
veins  and  move  us  on  to  noble  ends.  Grant  us 
faith  and  strength  wherewith  to  perform  all  life's 
duties  with  courage  unabated  by  reason  of  great 
sorrow.  May  we  ever  heed  her  final  admonition. 
May  we  "live  disinterestedly,  live  for  immortal- 
ity," and  **  whatever  of  riches,  or  renown,  or  joy, 
or  affection  we  would  rescue  from  final  dissolu- 
tion, may  we  lay  up  in  God." 

O  suffering,  reigning  Christ,  Man  of  Sorrows, 
God  of  Love,  Saviour  of  the  dead  and  the  living, 
we  pray  Thee,  by  thy  Crown  of  Thorns  and  Thy 
Crown  of  Glory,  that  through  Thy  grace  we  may 
so  walk  with  Thee  on  the  earth,  to  such  a  degree 
keep  pace  with  our  dead  in  their  unfettered  prog- 
ress, and  so  daily  and  hourly  grow  in  wisdom  and 
worship  and  charity,  that  when  we  awake  in  Thy 
likeness  we  may  not  fail  of  their  companionship  ! 


APPENDIX. 


Announcement  of  her  death  in  the  New  Orleans  Picayune y 
January  ^,  1886. 

DEATH    OF   MRS.    E.    C.    BILLINGS. 

THE  sad  announcement  was  made  yesterday, 
by  telegram,  to  friends  in  this  city,  from 
Hon.  E.  C.  Billings,  Judge  of  the  United  States 
District  Court,  that  Mrs.  Billings  had  died  in 
New  York  City  at  half-past  two  o'clock  yesterday 
morning.  Mrs.  Billings  had  been  ill  for  some 
time,  and  her  demise  was  not  unexpected.  This 
estimable  lady  was  well  known  and  greatly  es- 
teemed in  this  city.  Her  amiable  disposition, 
bright  intelligence,  and  gentleness  of  manner 
endeared  her  to  all  with  whom  she  came  in  con- 
tact.   The  news  of  her  death  will  be  received  with 

93 


94  Appendix. 

real  sorrow  by  the  residents  of  this  city,  who 
recognized  her  admirable  qualities,  and  Judge 
Billings  will  have  their  warm  sympathy  in  his 
great  affliction. 

The  funeral  will  take  place  on  Wednesday,  in 
New  Haven,  Conn.,  of  which  city  the  deceased 
was  a  native. 


Orders  of  the  United  States  Courts,  sitting  in  New 
Orleans,  out  of  respect  to  her  memory. 

United  States  Circuit  Court. 
\  [Judge  Don  A.  Pardee.] 

THE  court  being  advised  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  E. 
C.  Billings,  wife  of  the  Hon.  E.  C.  Billings, 
United  States  District  Judge  of  this  district,  one  of 
the  Judges  of  this  court,  it  is  ordered  that  the  causes 
set  for  to-day  be  continued  until  to-morrow,  and 
that  the  court  be  adjourned  in  respect  to  her 
memory  and  as  an  expression  of  sympathy  and 
condolence  with  our  colleague. 


Appendix.  95 

United  States  District  Court. 
[Judge  Aleck  Boarman,  presiding.] 

ON  opening  of  the  court  yesterday,  Mr.  J.  W. 
Gurley,  Assistant  United  States  Attorney, 
suggested  the  death  of  Mrs.  E.  C.  Billings,  wife  of 
Hon.  Edward  C.  Billings,  Judge  of  this  court,  and 
thereupon  moved,  as  a  mark  of  sympathy  in  his 
bereavement,  and  of  respect  for  her  memory,  that 
the  court  be  adjourned.  Mr.  William  Grant  hav- 
ing seconded  the  motion,  on  behalf  of  the  bar,  in 
brief  and  appropriate  terms,  his  Honor,  Judge 
Boarman,  expressing  his  full  concurrence  in  the 
propriety  of  the  motion,  ordered  that  the  court  be 
adjourned. 


96  Appendix. 

Obituary  Notice  published  in  the  New  Orleans  Times- 
Democrat,  January  j/,  1886.  Communicated  anony- 
mously from  Hartford,  Conn. 


EMILY   SANFORD    BILLINGS. 


[  Communicated^ 

DIED,  in  New  York  City,  Jan.  3,  1886,  Mrs. 
Emily  Sanford  Billings,  wife  of  Judge 
Edward  C.  Billings,  of  New  Orleans,  La.,  and 
daughter  of  the  late  Hervey  Sanford,  of  New 
Haven,  Conn. 

It  seems  fitting  that  more  than  the  announce- 
ment of  the  death  of  this  gifted  woman  should 
find  a  place  in  your  columns.  For,  in  New  Orleans, 
where  Mrs.  Billings  spent  the  winter  months,  her 
gentle  courtesy  and  rare  intelligence  were  enjoyed 
by  many  appreciative  friends. 

In  her  earlier  married  life,  as  the  wife  of  Capt. 
Armstrong,  she  will  be  remembered  as  a  favorite 
among  the  brilliant  men  and  women  of  naval 
circles,  at  the  different  navy  yards  where  her  hus- 
band was  stationed. 


Appendix.  97 

At  New  Haven,  Mrs.  Billings's  birthplace,  and 
where  she  passed  her  early  days,  she  greatly  en- 
deared herself  to  kindred  and  friends  by  the 
fidelity  of  her  attachments,  and  the  talents  and 
accomplishments  which  made  her  the  congenial 
companion  of  literary  men  and  women.  Her  loyal 
heart  delighted  in  the  memories  and  associations 
which  made  the  old  home  under  the  historic  elms 
particularly  dear ;  and  to  this  shrine  came  many 
distinguished  men  and  women  to  enjoy  the  grace- 
ful hospitality  and  interchange  of  thought  which 
will  never  be  forgotten. 

It  did  not  seem  to  lookers-on  that  the  great 
happiness  of  mutual  devotion  which  character- 
ized Mrs.  Billings's  married  life  was  soon  to 
be  severed.  Existence  was  dear  to  her  afifec- 
tionate  nature,  and  she  knew  it  was  given  her 
as  a  blessing  for  others.  An  ample  fortune 
set  no  limits  to  the  pleasures  of  travel,  benev- 
olence, or  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and  upon 
two  homes  are  left  the  impresses  of  her  taste 
and  refinement. 

So  oft  had  ever- watchful  care  averted  the  dan- 
gers which  threatened  the  delicate  organization 


98  Appendix. 

which  Mrs.  Billings  inherited,  that  friends  hoped 
against  hope,  when  fewer  letters  from  her  pen  and 
sad  tidings  from  others  told  of  the  limitations 
imposed  by  failing  strength. 

Coming  North  last  summer  under  a  physician's 
care,  she  sought  to  disarm  the  fears  of  anxious 
friends  by  the  bright  smile  and  cheerful  greeting 
with  which  she  met  their  expressions  of  solicitude. 
Those  who  were  privileged  to  be  with  the  invalid 
in  her  long  confinement  to  her  room,  felt  that  it 
was  the  chamber  of  peace ;  for  weakness  and 
many  a  pang,  which  none  but  the  sufferer  realized, 
did  but  ripen  the  faith  which  was  so  soon  to  be 
changed  to  sight.  When  medical  skill  failed  in  its 
mission  of  relief,  and  the  vigilance  and  devotion 
of  loved  ones  and  faithful  nurses  no  longer  availed, 
Mrs.  Billings,  with  characteristic  heroism,  decided 
to  place  herself  under  the  care  of  a  distinguished 
surgeon,  seeking  to  prolong  life  through  an  ordeal 
from  which  many  a  strong  man  shrinks. 

At  first  it  seemed  that  recovery,  so  prayerfully 
sought,  was  to  be  granted;  but  the  angel  of  death 
had  but  tarried  with  his  message.  Ere  the  early 
dawn  of  the  first  Sabbath  of  the  new  year  had 


Appendix.  99 

touched  the  horizon,  a  group  of  heart-stricken 
watchers  gathered  around  the  death-bed  of  the 
beloved  wife,  sister,  friend.  But  their  tender 
ministrations  could  no  longer  detain  the  soul  that 
heard  the  voice  of  God  calling  to  fairer  worlds  on 
high.  The  sensitive  spirit  feared  no  evil,  safe  in 
the  embrace  of  its  Guide  and  Comforter,  and  the 
shadows  of  death  were  illuminated  by  the  light  of 
immortality. 

In  unison  with  such  a  departure  are  the  follow- 
ing lines  of  a  Christian  poet : 

"  When  the  last  summons  comes  to  me. 

Like  angel  whispering,  let  it  be : 
*  The  Master  comes  and  calls  for  thee  !  * 

And  friends  who  final  vigils  keep 
With  this  glad  thought  will  cease  to  weep  : 
*  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep.' " 

Interesting  funeral  services  at  New  Haven,  at 
which  President  Porter,  of  Yale,  and  the  Rev. 
Burdett  Hart  officiated,  were  followed  by  burial  in 
the  old  cemetery  in  which  the  Sanford  tomb  stands. 

Hartford,  Conn.,  January  23,  1886.  -'*■• 

13 


lOo  Appendix. 

An  epitomized  characterization  of  her  contained 
in  an  extract  from  a  letter,  written  by  Mr. 
Justice    William    B.    Woods,    dated   January 

20,  1886. 

"  OINCE  I  saw  the  form  of  your  dear  wife  com- 
O  mitted  to  the  keeping  of  Mother  Earth,  my 
mind  has  dwelt  much  on  her  life  and  character. 
For  intelligence,  prudence,  and  good  judgment, 
she  had  few  equals.  Her  mind  had  been  trained 
in  the  best  schools,  and  she  had  been  cultured  by 
much  travel  and  the  best  society ;  she  was  a  most 
interesting  and  delightful  companion,  and  a  most 
truly  constant  and  faithful  friend.  But  her  great 
charm  to  me  was  the  heavenly  sweetness  of  her 
disposition." 


"-sSH"-" 


THE  ENQRAVtNOS,   EXCEPT    THE    PORTRAIT,  ARE   THE   WORK   OF 

MR.    ELBRIDGE    KING8LEY,   WHOSE  ART-POWER  HAS   BEEN   STIMULATED   BY   HIS  ATTACHMENT 

TO  THE  FRIEND  OF  BOYHOOD  DAYS,    THE  AUTHOR. 


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